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JOH^sT TODD 



M 



THE STORY OF HIS LIFE 



TOLD MAINLY BY HIMSELF 



COMPILED AND EDITED BY JOHN E. TODD 

PASTOR OF THE OHTJROII OF THE REDEEMER NEW HAVEN OONN. 




NEW YORK 
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS 




FRANKLIN SQUARE 



1 876 



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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by 

Harper & Brothers, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



PREFACE 



Autobiography is, probably, on the whole, the most 
satisfactory form of a story of a life. Doctor Todd never 
wrote an autobiography, or even kept a diary ; but in his 
published writings, under various disguises, and in his 
letters, a great mass of which are in preservation, he has 
told in his own language the different parts of the story 
which it has been the task of the compiler to find and knit 
together. In the accounts of the contests and troubles 
through which Doctor Todd passed in two of his minis- 
tries, the editor does not profess to have given a strictly 
accurate and impartial history. He has allowed Doctor 
Todd to give his version of the story, because the man, if 
he is to be judged fairly, must be considered in the light 
of things as they seemed to him. At the same time, the ed- 
itor has no reason to think that the accounts are in any 
respect essentially incorrect. His chief care has been to 
cut out all names and personal allusions which might hurt 
the feelings of the living, or do injustice to the dead, or 
tend to revive controversies which had now much better 
be left to oblivion, except so far as a general view of them 
is necessary to throw light upon the character which they 



6 PBEFACE. 

helped to form. Nor does the editor claim to have woven 
the materials at his disposal with an impartial hand. If 
there are any who feel disposed to complain that Doctor 
Todd is here made too beautiful a character, they will 
perhaps pardon it, in that it is the fault of 

His Son. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

HIS ANCESTRY 



The old Minister. —Guinea Negroes.— Cusli and his Drum.— Justice Todd's 
Molasses.— Doctors Jonathan and Timothy.— The Pride of her Village.— 
The House on the Batteukill.— The Unfortunate.— A new Flag.— The Doc- 
tor's Character. — The broken Harness. — Poetry under Difficulties. — An 
insane Mother .Page 17 

CHAPTER II. 

HIS INFANCY. 

The unwelcome Babe. — The Indian Doctor. — Tamar and Prim. — Massa Doc- 
tor's Dinner. — The Return to Connecticut. — Lost Lands. — 'Ittle Daw. — 
The first Home. — Poverty. — A Potato-digging. — The Sunset Lesson. — 
The naked Sword. — Family Prayers. — The sick Doctor. — A Lie. — Last 
Words. — A Child's Remorse. — The Widow's Moan. — Borrowed Shoes. — 
The Village Grave-yard. — The poor Orphan and the old Pastor. — The dark 
Messenger 24 

CHAPTER III. 

HIS CHILDHOOD. 

North Killingworth.— The Skipper's Wife.— Tim's youngest Boy. — Primitive 
Times.— An old Church.— Birthplaces.— The first Hat.— Death of Echo.— 
The murdered Phebe.— The kind Uncle.— A Brave old Man.— Near the 
College.— The long Fish-pole.— The old Eagle-tree.— Madison.— Near the 
Sea, — The old Duck-gun. — White Stones. — Changes. — The old House.— 
Three great Men.— Forth Afoot : 38 

CHAPTER IV. 

LIFE AT CHARLESTOWN. 

A weary Tramp.— Homesick.— The Errand-boy.— Hard Work.— At School. 
— A queer Costume. — Spectacles. — Religious Influences. — Doctor Morse. — 
A sandy Foundation. — Convictions. — An everlasting Covenant. — To do 
Good. — The Sunday-school.— Determination to go to College.— The Walk 
back.— Examination.— The Cedar-bush.— The Bond 55 

CHAPTER V. 

LIFE AT COLLEGE. 

The young Freshman.— A smart Class.— The first School.— Wet Stockings. 
—A Terror to Evil-doers.— A borrowed Hatchet.— The Sunday-school.— 



8 CONTENTS. 

Little Lewis. — "Cast thy Bread upon the Waters."— A great Revival. — 
111 Health.— Correspondence with Doctor Lee. — Farewell to Hotchkiss- 
town Page 67 

CHAPTER VI. 

life at college — continued. 

A Thunderbolt.— An interesting Letter.— A Daniel come to Judgment.— At 
Colebrook. — A Tune with a harsh Name.— Impressions of a Stranger.— On 
Horseback. — Grand Isle. — A buoyant Spirit. — A family Meeting. — Malone. 
—Return to College. — Advised to Leave.— A Ride on the Ice.— Brig Wil- 
liam. — A kind Family.— Glimpses of Slavery. — A Saturday-evening Note. 
—Scandalous Books.— A Pilgrim Horse.— Health Restored.— Mr. Herrick's 
Pupil.— Staples's Academy. — The Osbornes.— Graduation 81 

CHAPTER VII. 

LIFE AT ANDOVER. 

Andover Hill.— Doctor Porter.— Doctor Woods. — Doctor Stuart.— Doctor 
Murdock. — Quiet Life. — A Letter of Introduction. — Preaching without a 
License.— Qualities of a Minister's Wife.— Memories.— The first Sermon. 
—North Andover.— The blind Student.— A solemn Contract— Loves to 
Preach.— A pedestrian Tour.— Osborneville.— Expectant Friends 97 

CHAPTER VIII. 

life at andover — continued. 

A Day's Work.— Ill Health.— Steam-cars wanted.— A Trip to Cape Cod.— 
The Captain-doctor.— Mirth under Difficulties.— Plymouth Rock.— A Dis- 
pute with Conscience.— Determines to preach extempore.— In the Editor's 
Chair.— Can not change Profession. — A promising young Man. — The Way 
clear 109 

CHAPTER IX. 

life at andover — continued. 

Doctor Eli Todd. — The new Librarian. — A Pseudo-Baptist. — Answers Him- 
self. — A wise Professor. — An anonymous Letter. — Vanity. — Licensed by 
Professors. — The first Preaching. — Competitors for Valedictory. — Dan- 
gers at the Seminary.— The Christian Almanac. — Wanted for Palestine. — 
The Hawk and the Jay. — Two Orators. — Doctor Griffin. — Fanny Fern. — 
A religious Fourth. — The Association at Dedham. — The Oration at Park 
Street. — An awful Question. — A beautiful Prayer 119 

CHAPTER X. 

life at andover — continued. 

A Disappointment. — A Saturday-afternoon Ride. — Groton. — The old Min- 
ister. — An unlooked-for Supply. — A Dinner-party. — Calls. — The Scholar- 
ship. — The Suicide. — A second Visit to Groton. — A Unitarian Church. — 
A Dilemma. — Dislikes to Go. — Honorable Intentions. — Graduates at An- 
dover. — Arrives at Groton. — A crowded House. — Meat for Lions. — What 
Unitarians say. — The Babbler. — Closely Watched. — Intends to split the 
Society. — An Epidemic. — Notes up. — Toddy on the Coffin. — Enemies and 
Friends. — The little Girl and her Chestnuts.— Toddites.— Thanksgiving- 
day. — Hurries away. — A Town in an Uproar 135 



CONTENTS. , 9 

CHAPTER XI. 

life at andover — continued. 

Reasons for Flight.— Defeat.— A stormy World.— Retirement— Rumors.— 
The Petition. — A wild Congregation.— Petition rejected.— Claim of the 
old Pastor. — A Night Ride. — Moderation advised. — Constables at the 
Church-door.— A Council.— A Committee handled without Gloves. — The 
Call answered. — A Broad-axe Sermon. — A Sunday at Portsmouth. — The 
first Sermon in a new Church. — Genuine Drudgery. — Another Defeat. — 
Another Council. — Compromise rejected. — An Invitation accepted. — 
Dread.— Good-bye to Andover Page 149 

CHAPTER XII. 

LIFE AT GROTON. 

Preaching in the Academy.— Rum in the Meeting-house.— Invitation to 
Portland. — A Bible-class. — Hell the same as Eternity. — A Stage-ride. — 
A young Lady's Desk. — Which is the Church? — Corner-stone laid and 
thrown down. — A Council.— Beecher on Rights of Churches.— The new 
Gown.— Invitation to Danvers. — The poor Bee.— The Raising.— A Scene 
at the Church-door. — An Installation Ball. — A Revival. — Conduct of the 
Inquiry-meeting. — A Remonstrance. — Organization of a new Church. — 
A Trap. — The Linchpins.— Call from the Union Church.— The Answer. — 
Changes 165 

CHAPTER XIII. 

life at groton — continued. 

Ordination. — Dedication — Shawls without Fringes. — Sale of Pews. — Reviv- 
als. — Sickness. — A hard Journey. — A Sunday-evening Meeting. — Girdling 
Trees. — The Bride. — Examination. — A great Barn of a Thing. — Sunday- 
school begun. — Active Ladies. — A judicious Pig. — A new Horse. — An un- 
expected Arrival. — A Week of Hope. — Fears. — A household Baptism. — 
Tears in the Pulpit. — A sad Evening. — The Rose-bud plucked. — A little 
Funeral. — Memories 180 

CHAPTER XIV. 

life at groton — continued. 

How to get a Bell. — The best House in Town. — The haunted House. — Pat- 
tering of little Feet. — A Unitarian Funeral. — Immortal Hens. — Mission- 
ary Visitations.— A Runaway.— An extraordinary Woman.— A Baby In- 
firmary. — Invitation to a Funeral declined. — The Letter. — A New-comer. 
— Death of Doctor Chaplin. — The bereaved Father. — A lazy Agent. — Med- 
icine with a Vengeance. — A pretty Girl. — The dying young Man. — Results 
of the Groton Movement. — Author vs. Pastor 195 

CHAPTER XV. 

life AT groton — continued. 

Boarding.— A crying Child.— A Horse mired.— A new Parish. — Purchase of a 
Horse. — The lame Boy. — Temperance. — A Horse-trade. — A new Vestry.— 
Inks. — The Barrel of Brimstone. — Trip to Philadelphia, — A mighty Con- 
cern. — Yankee Character. — A Revival. — Piety of Ministers. — Morbid Feel- 
ings. — Depression. — An Idol. — The Deist in the Inquiry-meeting. — A won- 
derful Time.— Union of Churches.— A Call refused 209 



10 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

life at groton — continued. 

The new Cloak. — A kindred Spirit. — Another Arrival. — Antimasonry. — 
Death of Doctor Chaplin. — Death of Mr. Evarts. — A second Hamlet. — A 
four days' Meeting. — The House divided. — Bochhn. — The last Day of the 
Feast. — Powerful Medicine. — The Bowling-alley. — Early Meetings. — 
Alone.— The black Kitten.— The lost Puppy.— Homesick.— Hard Work. 
—Milk Diet.— Sick.— Meeting at Sodom.— A Journey.— The Poles.— The 
Slaves. — One Foot in the Stirrup. — Basted together.— Poor Tea, — A Prov- 
idential Dispensation.— Stormy Times. — Death of a Sister. — Called to Sa- 
lem. — A handsome Grave. — Council. — Dismission refused.— Broken up. — 
Another Call.— Farewell to Groton Page 221 

CHAPTER XVII. 

LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 

A beautiful Town. — In the Town-hall. — The Building-spot.— No Stores.— 
An anxious Day. — A judicious Irishman. — The Baptist Meeting-house. — 
A Revival. — Bitter Memories. — The sick Child. — Just alive. — Out of Dan- 
ger. — The Communion-plate. — A green Spot. — New Theology.— Nothing 
Accomplished. — Error Misapprehended. — A Son. — Dedication. — Always 
too Late. — Ramming down. — The Devil losing Ground. — Meetings ! Meet- 
ings '.—The Baby at Church.— The Ministry at Fault.— A Book 236 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

life at Northampton — continued. 

Vacation. — A Presentiment, — The Red Sea. — The Devil's Invention. — An 
Organ Difficulty. — The old Pastor's Sunset. — Mrs. Todd an Author.— Keep 
Cool. — Mount Holyoke Seminary. — A new House. — Student's Manual. — 
Under the Wheel. — The Door Locked. — A Call. — Frozen Rattlesnakes. — 
A Revival.— Council in Philadelphia. — A loud Call. — Hangs back. — Beech- 
er at the Oar.— A gloomy Time.— A great Move. — A pleasant Home Broken 
Up. — Farewell to Northampton 250 

CHAPTER XIX. 

LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 

A new Sunday-school.— A new Church. — A new Pastor. — Helps. — Hinder- 
ances. — Installation. — Salting a River. — A bitter Minister. — Solemn Meet- 
ings. — Lectures on Sunday-schools.— Paul for a Colleague. — Panic. — Two 
General Assemblies. — No Salary. — A sad Journey. — The morning Cloud. — 
Dedication. — The Spark. — A Howl. — Take it Coolly. — Galvanism. — The 
Dutchman's Horse. — Gathering the Harvest. — Resolving. — Work accom- 
plished.— Sabbath School Teacher in London. — Mustard-seed Souls — To 
the Editor of the Keepsake. — Life of Scott. — Reminiscences. — Will not be 
Soured 261 

CHAPTER XX. 

life at Philadelphia — continued. 

The old Gun. — Annealed Wire. — The Dinner-set. — Measles.— A new House. 
— To Miss Beecher. — The Clam split open. — The Maple Molasses.— Lungs 
of Leather. — Cholera Infantum. — Dispatch. — Anguish of Spirit. — Robert 
Hall.— Bowditch.— The plucked Rose. — The still, small Voice.— Nesting 



CONTENTS. 1 1 

out of the Pulpit— Not Paid.— A young Ladies' School.— A Boys' School. 
— A daily Newspaper. — To Mrs. Palmer. — Congregationalism. — Preaching 
Sovereignty. — Trials of building a new Church. — Swine and the Water. — 
Genius. — Boys' Education.— Sighs for New England Page 273 

CHAPTER XXI. 

life at Philadelphia — continued. 

Revival. — "Truth made Simple." — Difficulties. — Young Men's Association. 
— A wonderful Meeting. — Quidnunc's Letters. — Billy. — A Day of -Calam- 
ities. — A fearful Medicine. — " Oh, rise some other such !" — A great Pro- 
fession. — Quarrels. — Scarlet Fever. — Did what he could. — Five sick at 
once. — Sermons in the Sick-room. — What a Storm! — A hard Row. — 
The Place for Usefulness. — Italian Darkness. — A city Church. — Preaching 
of Doctor Kirk. — Dissatisfied Evangelists. — Abandoned. — The resolving 
System. — Abundant Labors.— Never so Prosperous. — Varioloid. — A hard 
Tear. — The lost Sister. — Disaffection. — Wholesale Lies. — Water on a Rock. 
—Threads of Gold 287 

CHAPTER XXII. 

LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA — continued. 

A kind Publisher. — Scalding Water. — Great Cities. — The Pension. — Char- 
acter attacked. — A severe Ordeal. — Insults. — A boyish Heart. — Days of 
Anguish. — Temporary Peace. — Vacation. —Burlington College. — First 
Glimpse of Adirondacks.— The Backing- spider. — Philosophical Fog.— 
Winking. — In the Woods. — Restored. — Welcome Home. — A mortgaged 
Church for Sale. — A distressed People.— A solemn Birthday. — Dismission 
asked.— Postponement.— Efforts.— Tears.— All over.— A Cradle overhung 
with Gloom.— In a Hall.— How far a Failure.— Causes.— How little lacked. 
— Presbyterian Generosity. — Congregational Liberality. — A heavy Blow. 
— Character saved. — Invited to Remain. — The scattered People. — Farewell 
to Philadelphia 300 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 

A great Change. — Pittsfield as it Was. — Every thing Strange. — Immersion 
under Difficulties.— Jack Frost in the Pulpit. — The old Church. — A great 
People. — Discouragements. — Revival. — A cheerful World. — Installation. — 
The Stake vs. Gnats. — In the Parsonage. — A stormy Night. — "You're 
burning up." — " Where are the Children ?" — All over. — A Home gone. — 
"All I have left." — A dark Cloud. — All Kindness. — Trips to Philadelphia. 
— In the old Pulpit. — A mere Dream.— A Town awed. — The Inquiry- 
meeting. — "I'm your own Mary." — Deep Waters.— Hope. — A cold Snap. 
— Evil Tidings. — A great-souled Brother.— Cut down Trunk and Branches. 
—Ministers taught.— The clouded Mind clear at last. — "No more than 
my Duty" 314 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

life at pittsfield — continued. 

A new Parsonage. — Not much to Do. — Berkshire Jubilee. — A Book-seller. — 
Samuel.— Revival. — The Farm. — Desire for a Home.— Great Preparations. 
— The lame Boy's Wedding, Sickness, and Death. — Death of Doctor Shep- 
ard. — Chronicles.— The new Lecture- room. — A good Fight. — D.D.— 
Beautiful Gardens.— Six Towels. — A remarkable President.— Fanny For- 



1 2 CONTENTS. 

rester.— The sick Baby.— Physicians Baffled.— Still with us.— Lent to tne 
Lord.— A great Vacancy.— An Epitaph.— Wonderful Work.— The Spirit 
here.— Three Times in a Fortnight.— King's Sons Page 328 

CHAPTER XXV. 

life at pittsfield — continued. 

An absent Child. — Letters of Encouragement. — "Make them love you."— 
Not Beloved enough. — Not Affectionate enough. — Children joining the 
Church.— Blue-pill Diet. — Preparations. — Winter at Hand. — A fairy Thing. 
— A sick Child. — A big Temperance Pledge. — Two ends of a Glass. — Mag. 
— Tableaux. — Coloniziug meditated. —Once more an Editor. — Another 
Baby. — Worse than a Ghost. — " I'll be Mum." — Laying a Corner-stone. — 
A Mighty Pyramid.— Miss Lyon.— John Foster.— First Meeting of the 
American Board. — A peculiar Revival. — An endless -chain Meeting. — A 
pleasant Revival.— Close of the Year.— A Fire.— The Father of Church- 
es. — Proposals from Philadelphia. — Visit to New Haven. — Memories. — 
" Didn't know he was so much hurt."— A surgical Operation.— Voice vs. 
Brains. — A Dedication 343 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

life at pittsfield — continued. 

An Indian's Letter. — An Indiau's Reply. —The Water-cure. — Fitted to 
adorn.— Doctoring a Father-in-law. — An Invitation. — The old Eagle. — 
Oaken Literature. — Gushing Waters. — Death of a Mother. — Slaughtering 
Weapons.— An open Mouth. — A Resignation. — A new Member of the Fam- 
ily. — Gabriel's Complaint. — Trip to the West. — Snows. — Spiritual Long- 
ings. — Surgeons. — A Blow. — Must not Preach. — To Europe. — Not a sound 
Man.— Two Enemies. — The Barber's Shop. — The Dutch Minister. — Rem- 
iniscences. — Description of Pittsfield. — A Flower-garden. — The Busy Bee. 
— What an Argument !— The Taper and the Sun 362 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

life at pittsfield — continued. 

The Burden of Souls.— A Wedding.— A Todd Trade.— A Storm.— Solitary.— 
"My Father's House." — Not Unhappy. — A cold People. — The old Wheel- 
horse. — "We stand on Character." — The sick Daughter. — A Son in the 
Pulpit. — Diphtheria. — The World Mad. — Death of Doctor Humphrey. — 
Death of Doctor Brace. — The old Father. — Stopped in the Pulpit. — A 
queer Infirmity. — The War. — "Ye are Idle." — " Tendresse maternelle." — A 
River of Providence. — A lean Ministry. — Economy. — Horseback. — A Let- 
ter from the West. — An Accident. — Clinging to Life. — Going. — Mary 
Slept. — A Vacancy. — Polished Diamonds. — The Garden of Hope 378 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

life at pittsfield — continued. 

The fatted Calf. — Message to a Prayer-meeting. — Sick. — At Saratoga. — Second 
Meeting of the American Board. — "Vanity Fair." — An honorable Charac- 
ter. — A John Gilpin Time, — Chronicles.— Billy in the Pulpit.— Ring-tailed 
Monkeys. — The Power of Prayer. — Raffling.— A great Matter. — Thanks.— 
Trip to California, — The last Rail. — A holy Fossil. — The Mormon Temple. 
— Weak Consciences. — Sermon before the American Board. — Times of Paul. 
— New Lecture-room. — Swaying Bedclothes. — How to deal with Tempta- 
tion. — A Pocket-pistol. — Rutland Centennial. — The Resignation 394 



CONTENTS. 13 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

life at pittsfield — continued. 

The old Ship.— These Wives.— Fern Pastures.— Breaking of Heart.— The 
sick Child.— A sad Baptism.— Vale. — The Rainbow.— Spirits in Prison.— 
Frozen together. — The Decrees. — An active old Man. — Alarming Attack. 
— Duties relinquished.— Kindness of Parish. — To a bereaved Brother. — 
To Saxurn Magnum. — The deceased young Minister. — To his Successor. — 
A mere Babe. — Turning into a Shadow. — Trip to Philadelphia. — Green Re- 
membrance. — The last Communion.— The last Baptism. — To the President 
of a University. — A Letter of Consolation. — The last Sermon Page 411 

• CHAPTER XXX. 

HIS STUDY. 

A pleasant Room. — The Library. — Missionary Magazines. — Positively Dis- 
graceful.— An omnivorous Reader. — Guns. — The Wood-nymph. — Drawers 
of Sermons. — Canes. — The Golden Wedding. — The sick Child. — Two old 
Pastors. — The hard Man.— Jerusalem. — The lame Brother.— Mementoes. 
—The Fisherman's Lounge.— Pain.— The Desk.— The stolen Knife.— The 
Clock. — The Chair. — The inner Life of Imagination, Memory, Hope. — 
Sources of Power 426 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

DOCTOR TODD AS A PREACHER. 

Ambition to be a Preacher. — Conception of the Office. — The Greatest of 
Sciences. — Middle Ground. — His Doctrines. — No uncertain Sound. — Prac- 
tical Preaching. — Reverence for the Word of God. — No Doubts. — Com- 
mentaries. — Henry.— David and Paul. — Jonathan Edwards. — Thomas 
Chalmers.— Extempore Preaching. — Planning a Sermon.— Manner of 
Writing.— Careless Style. — Appearance in the Pulpit.— Dress.— Beauty.— 
Voice. — Manner.— Prayers.— Hymns.— Characteristics of Preaching.— 
Simple Language.— Thought.— Illustration.— Solemnity.— Purifying the 
Fountain.— Knowledge of Human Nature. — Pathos.— Enthusiasm. — Im- 
agination.— Dramatic Power.— The Mount of God.— "It doth not yet 
appear" 440 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

DOCTOR TODD AS AN AUTHOR. 

How he came to Write.— The Poor-house.— Little Johnny.— The Bellows.— 
The only One who Printed them. — Lectures to Children.— How to put 
Babies to Sleep.— Simple Sketches. — Student's Manual.— A Relic of Frank- 
lin. — An Accident. — "Index Rerum." — "Sabbath School Teacher."— A 
Public Reception. — "Truth made Simple."— The French Chamber-maid. 
—Little Mary.— The King's Ring.— Power over Children.— Stories on the 
Catechism. — The Serpent in the Dove's Nest. — Woman's Rights. — The 
Sunset Land. — Scraps of Time. — Wrote to do Good. — No Money. — A 
great Life-work 458 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

HIS RECREATIONS. 

Early Vacations. — The Adirondacks. — Two hundred Lakes. — Nothing but 
Deer. — Hunters' Slander. — Love of Nature. — Religion in the Forest. — 



1 4 CONTENTS. 

The Sabbath. — Long Lake. — A Church in the Wilderness. — A starved 
Missionary. — Who Cares for the poor Settlers? — One of his Deacons. 
— Hobbies. — Fishing-tackle. — Never did like Trout. — Shooting-irons. — 
Bees. — In the Attic. — Lazy Emblems. — The Temple. — A Hivite. — Buried 
Alive. — The Power of a Sting.— Hens. — Patent Inventions. — A Carica- 
ture. — A Peace-offering. — The Game-cock. — Gardening. — Conservatories. 
— Consider the Lilies. — The Killingworth Parson. — Remarks at the Com- 
munion - table. — The Farm. — Shade - trees. — Alderneys. — The Wherry. — 
The Launch. — The Thunder-storm. — The Workshop. — The Frying-pan. — 
An Apology. — A Relief— A Weakness incident to Strength. — A little 
Child Page 473 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

DOCTOR TODD AT HOME. 

Wide Sympathies. — The Ballot-box. — Patriotism. — A Bishop. — Esprit de 
Corps. — The Doctors. — A high Mountain. — A good Citizen. — Schools. — 
Improvements.— Sprinkling. — The Poor.— A converted Jew. — Systematic 
Benevolence. — Achievements. — Preacher vs. Pastor. — Disappointed Dea- 
cons. — A Critic silenced. — A good Companion. — Spiritualism. — A wide 
Circulation. — The Peddler. — Methodist Prayers. — The Under-tone. — Ques- 
tions. — "Very Satisfaction." — "Slightly, Sir." — Hospitalities. — Jokes. — 
The Bed made. — Visitors. — Overestimated Friends. — Children's Sports. — 
Thanksgiving Presents. — Discipline. — A Pea -brush. — The family Post- 
office. — The family Tryst. — Education. — Love Affairs. — Religion in the 
Family. — "Prayers." — Saturday Night. — The Sabbath. — Hymns and 
Questions. — The right Line of Thought. — Religious Conversation. — Ad- 
vice. — A wonderful Woman. — Acknowledgments. — A Love-letter. — Home 
loved 493 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

SAILING AWAY. 

Sickness. — The old Maple. — An after-dinner Speech.— The last Preaching. — 
A Letter of Sympathy. — The last Funeral. — His Piece ready. — The last 
Letter. — A Request for Prayers. — A distressing Sickness. — Anxiety of the 
People. — Longing to Live.— No Light from Beyond. — Thoughtfulness for 
Others. — Midnight Talks. — Among the Crags. — The Consolations of God. 
— A striking Prayer. — Interview with the young Pastor. — Messags to the 
People. — A little Child at the Door.— A Desire to depart.— Saturday Night. 
— The Messenger. — Last Words. — Sleep. — Sabbath Morning. — The Funer- 
al 515 

Appendix I 526 

Appendix II ; 529 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Page 

Portrait of Dr. Todd, with Autograph Frontispiece. 

The Old Sanctuary .faces 165 

Lawrence Academy, Groton, Massachusetts " 180 

First Congregational Church, Pittsfield, Massachusetts. . . " 314 

Dr. Todd's Residence " 318 

Dr. Todd's Study .427 

The Fountain 430 

The Church in the Wilderness faces 478 

Camp on Jackson's Pond , 476 

Dr. Todd's Workshop 489 



JOHN TODD: 

THE STORY OF HIS LIFE. 



CHAPTER I. 

HIS ANCESTRY. 

The old Minister.— Guinea Negroes.— Cush and his Drum.— Justice Todd's 
Molasses. — Doctors Jonathan and Timothy. — The Pride of her Village. 
—The House on the Battenkill. — The Unfortunate. — A new Flag.— The 
Doctor's Character. — The broken Harness. — Poetry under Difficulties. — 
An insane Mother. 

" My great-uncle was a plain, primitive clergyman in old- 
en times. He lived a very long, quiet life, dwelling among 
his own people, equally primitive. He seldom went out of 
his little parish; and though he was a great student and 
thorough scholar, yet in the things of this world he was a 
child in simplicity. It so happened that there was a vessel 
cast ashore near his house, and from the wreck several Af- 
ricans, directly from Guinea, emerged. I never knew all the 
circumstances, but they came into his hands, and my uncle 
made pets of them all. He thought of instructing and ed- 
ucating them, and sending them back to Africa; and he 
thought of making them school-teachers here ; and he had 
divers schemes for their elevation. But they were full- 
grown people, could not speak a word of English, were im- 
mensely stupid, and having never been brought up to work, 
were any thing but industrious. He gave them Scripture 
names — Cush, Tamar, and the like. Cush was the oldest, 
uniting simplicity and cunning, so that it was often difficult 
to say on which principle he was acting. His simplicity al- 
ways had his own ends in view. Among his exploits, he got 
up a company of boys as soldiers. He made them long 
sticks for guns, but — a drum ! He set his heart on having 
a drum for his company. In those days gentlemen wore 

2 



18 JOHN TODD. 

.small clothes and white-top boots. My uncle was nice in 
his dress, and no one in his parish had bis head in more per- 
fect wig, or his feet in more becoming white-top boots. At 
great expense and pains he had procured a side of white 
leather for his boots, and laid it up carefully. All at once 
the leather was gone. But a smothered sound from some- 
thing called a drum among the boy-soldiers revealed the se- 
cret. When called to account, Cush gravely answered his 
master that his company were delighted, and said, ' De min- 
ister had more patriotism than all de gemmen in de town.'" 

As the old minister had no children, these negroes at- 
tached themselves to the children of his brother Timothy, 
who lived near, and many are the family traditions of their 
affection and fidelity. At the death of their master, those 
of them who survived were by his will emancipated, with 
their families. It seems that he had long been " convinced in 
his own mind that the enslaving of the Africans brought from 
Africa, or born in this country, was unjust, and one of the 
sins of the land." Like many others of his time, however, 
he could never quite bring himself to make the sacrifices in- 
volved in an act of emancipation, but preferred to perform 
this act of justice at the expense of his heirs. His servants, 
however, did not particularly suffer at his hands. He was a 
man of singularly amiable disposition, and as a preacher and 
pastor left behind him an enviable reputation for learning, 
fidelity, and Christian character and influence. 

His brother Timothy was a merchant as well as a farmer, 
and was for many years a magistrate. During the Revolu- 
tionary struggle, a man came to him one day for a search- 
warrant, to authorize him to look for certain smuggled goods 
on the premises of one Thomas Wilcox. Justice Todd made 
out the warrant, as in duty bound, but found an opportunity, 
while doing it, to direct his eldest daughter, Elizabeth, to take 
horse instantly, and ride over and notify his friend Wilcox 
of his danger. She at once left the barrel from which she 
w r as drawing molasses at the moment, and, springing on the 
bare back of the first horse she could catch, flew to do the 
errand, which she performed successfully. Mr. Wilcox's boys 
hid the smuggled goods under a heap of tan bark, and the 
search-warrant was of no use. Elizabeth returned, however, 
to find that in her haste she had left the molasses running, 



HIS ANCESTRY. 19 

and the barrel was empty. But as she subsequently married 
one of " the Wilcox boys," the loss was not without its con- 
solations. 

Having made large purchases of goods on credit, Squire 
Todd became very much embarrassed by the rapid deprecia- 
tion of the Continental currency, and when, in the midst of 
-life, he was suddenly cut off by that scourge of our fathers, 
the small-pox, he was found to be insolvent. His sons, how- 
ever, voluntarily assumed his debts, and in the end honora- 
bly discharged them. 

Of the nine children of the worthy magistrate, two, Jon- 
athan and Timothy, became physicians, and physicians of 
more than ordinary repute. Jonathan settled in his native 
town, and became one of its most important citizens; but 
Timothy determined to seek his fortune with the stream of 
emigation which was then rolling slowly into Vermont. Al- 
ready before his father's death he had visited Vermont, and 
engaged in the battle of Bennington. Having obtained a 
scanty medical education, he settled, on the conclusion of 
peace, in the little town of Arlington, about fourteen miles 
north of Bennington, having first returned to Connecticut 
to marry Phebe, daughter of Captain Jehiel Buel, of Killing- 
worth, now Clinton. 

"My mother, when young, was a most accomplished lady, 
for those times. She enjoyed all the advantages of educa- 
tion that a young lady could at that time. She was hand- 
some, her air easy and graceful. She was the delight of her 
parents and friends, and the pride of her village. Alas ! how 
little did my poor father think of the change he should live 
to see !" 

Arlington was at that time a frontier town, the whole 
upper part of the State being a wilderness. Kept from ad- 
vancing beyond the line of civilization by fear of the In- 
dians, the constantly arriving emigrants crowded along the 
frontier. For this reason Arlington was then a place of 
more inhabitants a,nd more importance than it has ever been 
since. About two miles north of the village, the young 
doctor " purchased a small farm near the Battenkill, an in- 
considerable river so called, and built a small brick house 
thereon, by the expense of which he was for a time some- 
what embarrassed," although it was built in large part by 



20 JOHN TODD. 

his own hands. This house is still standing, substantially 
unaltered, and in excellent repair. " It stands in a deep but 
most lovely valley, between two lofty prominences of the 
Green Mountains. In front and eastward runs the road, 
which follows the valley through the State ; and a little be- 
yond, the beautiful little Battenkill River runs and tumbles 
among the smooth rocks. A little farther east rises the lofty 
mountain, covered with forest trees thick and rich, and dark 
and mysterious." 

In this romantic spot Doctor Todd lived many years; 
and here six of his seven children were born. "He was 
active, resolute, and persevering: his professional reputa- 
tion was rising, and he soon had a pretty extensive circle 
of medical practice." He also engaged in business, having 
built a furnace for the smelting of iron ; and the firm of 
Todd and Camfield became one of repute and importance. 
He was a man of considerable literary taste and talent, and 
wrote many medical and other articles for the journals of 
the day, and on various occasions pronounced popular ora- 
tions. A curious little memorandum-book of his, still pre- 
served, contains, in his own handwriting, " an abstract view 
of the miscellaneous writings of Timothy Todd, the unfortu- 
nate." The catalogue gives the titles of orations, contri- 
butions to magazines, poems, plays, some of which were act- 
ed, and even operas, most of them having reference to poli- 
tics. In many ways he manifested a decided fondness for 
public life a,nd notoriety. He was a freemason, and was 
termed a noted mason. He joined the military, and bore 
a captain's commission. He was an ardent politician, and 
strongly patriotic in his feelings; an enthusiastic Federal- 
ist, and strongly opposed to the Democrats. 

" One third day of July, my father procured a tall liber- 
ty-pole and set it up in front of his house, intending to raise 
a flag the next day. Early in the morning it was found 
that in the course of the night a large bear had come down 
from the mountain, and climbed the pole, and taken posses- 
sion of the top of it. Of course the Democrats were delight- 
ed, and lost no opportunity of teasing the patriotic doctor 
about his new flag." 

He left behind him a reputation for eccentricity, but 
seems to have been decidedly popular, and was constantly 



HIS ANCESTRY. 21 

in civil office. For at least five years he represented Ar- 
lington in the General Assembly, and for three years he was 
a member of the Governor's Council, a body of twelve men, 
which, under the old colonial constitution, took the place of 
the Senate. At the time of his withdrawal from public life 
he was on the point of being elected governor. Many years 
afterward a friend of his wrote to his son : 

"Your father had many natural and moral excellences; 
but, like myself, was a very imperfect man. His principal 
foible, if I mistake not, was too strong a thirst for promo- 
tion in civil office. Yet I never knew him lower the digni- 
ty of his character, or resort to dishonorable means, in pur- 
suit of his object. He was too much alive to popular fa- 
vor, it must be confessed ; yet he was frank, open, and unre- 
served : what he felt, he felt strongly; and what he felt, he 
spoke without disguise. He was a discerning judge of char- 
acter, and, while ardent in his attachments, his prejudices 
were as the bars of a castle. Your father, sir, possessed a 
bright natural genius, and had it been cultivated by a clas- 
sical education, he would doubtless have held an eminent 
rank as a scientific character. In his profession he stood 
high, was respected and useful ; his natural disposition was 
in a high degree social, his sensibility keen ; he was all 
nerve ; his spirits volatile, easily elevated or depressed ; his 
heart was affectionate, and vibrated in unison w T ith the notes 
of friendship. He tenderly sympathized with the afflicted 
and distressed, was faithful in his attention to the sick, . 
and often served the poor without fee or reward. His un- 
derstanding was informed by reading and observation ; his 
imagination vivid, his memory tenacious, his mind stored 
with images which he could call in to the aid of glowing 
description, in which he delighted. He had a taste for the 
belles-lettres, wrote in a very pretty style, and often acquit- 
ted himself handsomely in a public oration." 

To this the son replied : 

"Accept, dear sir, my gratitude for your kindness in writ- 
ing. Few know the feelings of an orphan when he finds one 
who is willing to say, ' Your father w r as my friend.' The pic- 
ture you drew of my father's character very nearly resem- 
bled the one my imagination had painted; and in reading 
your letter, I can- discover many traits of my own character." 



22 JOHN TODD. 

A few months before his last child was born, the doctor 
moved from Arlington to Rutland, which was then becom- 
ing a more important place. Here he secured for himself a 
home, and at once established himself in practice. But he 
had hardly done so, when an event occurred which at once 
overturned all his plans. A rich man in West Rutland, who 
had been taken very sick, sent his carriage in great haste 
for the doctor and for his lawyer. The two gentlemen were 
seated together, and were going down the mountain about 
live miles from home, when some part of the harness gave 
way, and the horses became unmanageable and ran, and 
the carriage w T as overturned and broken. Perceiving that 
it was going over, the doctor called to his companion, who 
was on the upper side, to jump out; but he, in his terror, 
delayed so long that there was time for but one to escape. 
Doctor Todd was caught; and the consequence is thus 
stated by himself: "My left leg was fractured and dislo- 
cated in a most shocking manner; the bones were forced 
through the integuments, and dragged four rods, grinding 
the earth, and broken into innumerable fragments." Terri- 
ble as this injury was, the doctor was wholly unconscious 
of it till his attention was called to it by his horror-stricken 
friend. The lawyer immediately hurried for assistance; 
but the country was thinly settled, and two or three hours 
elapsed before his return. In the mean time the wounded 
man crawled to a rock by the side of a run of water, in 
which he laved the wounds, and cleansed them from the 
clotted blood and the fragments of his stocking which had 
been impelled into them ; and, taking his instruments from 
his pocket, with astonishing fortitude proceeded to take up 
a principal blood-vessel. When found by his friends, he 
was discovered with a pencil in his hand, with which he had 
just concluded writing. 

Of this writing, the doctor thus speaks: "I sincerely of- 
fered the following ejaculation to the Father of mercies and 
God of all comfort, and afterward put it in metre" (proba- 
bly seeking with this mental occupation to distract his at- 
tention from his pain), "that in case I should not survive 
my wounds, as there appeared no hope, my children and 
friends might know the sensations which then possessed me. 

" ' Great God, the day of thy power is dreadful indeed ! 



HIS ANCESTRY. 23 

Thy frown is death, and the blasts of thy nostrils crush us 
forever. Behold me in this hour of distress, through the 
sufferings of thy Son ; then shall mercy beam upon me, and 
open the gates of eternal day. I feel thy power; I own thy 
justice; and believe in thy word. Whatever fails, suffer 
me, O God, even if thou slayest me, still to trust in thee !' " 

"You will judge," exclaimed his son, sixty years after- 
ward, " of the character that could in those circumstances 
write that prayer." 

Help at last arrived. A bier was brought from the grave- 
yard, and covered with feather-beds, and the unfortunate 
man was tenderly laid on it, and carried on men's shoulders 
to his home. The physicians who were summoned replaced 
the bones as well as they could, although he implored them 
to resort to amputation ; and the result was, that eventually 
the limb was restored, so that the doctor could use it again 
without even a cane, and with very little halt in his gait; 
but this was only after much suffering and long use of 
crutches. He was confined to his bed for months. 

For many years previous to this, ever since the birth of 
her oldest boy, the doctor's wife had suffered from ill health, 
which partially affected her mind. At the time of the acci- 
dent, " she was sick ; and the tidings came suddenly to her, 
'The doctor is killed, and they are bringing him home on a 
bier.' The blow fell upon one almost crushed by sickness. 
It destroyed her reason ; and though she lived many years, 
she never recovered it." 

It was in such circumstances as these, the father lying a 
helpless cripple, and the mother a hopeless lunatic, that on 
the 9th of October, 1800, "a man-child was born" into the 
world. They gave him the name which has been borne by 
some one in the family in every generation, John Todd. 



24 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER II 

HIS INFANCY. 

The unwelcome Babe.— The Indian Doctor. — Tamar and Prim.— Massa 
Doctor's Dinner. — The Keturn to Connecticut. — Lost Lands. — 'IttleDaw. 
—The First Home. — Poverty. — A Potato-digging. — The Sunset Lesson.— 
The naked Sword. — Family Prayers. — The sick Doctor. — A Lie. — Last 
Words. — A Child's Kemorse. — The Widow's Moan. — Borrowed Shoes. — 
The Village Grave-yard. — The poor Orphan and the old Pastor. — The dark 
Messenger. 

" Not long before his death, his youngest child was born, 
a scrawny, puny babe, weighing five or six pounds. The 
mother was worn out, and was apparently to be left poor, 
friendless, and alone, with her great family of little ones. 
But — that baby ! Every one said, l What a mercy if that 
child should die ! What can she do with it? What a bless- 
ing if it should die !' The poor mother almost thought so 
too. But the unwelcome babe would not die. He made a 
struggle for life, and won the battle." 

Meantime the poor father had begun to creep up again. 
The day drew near for the meeting of the Governor's Coun- 
cil, and he was so desirous of being in his place that he con- 
trived to journey to Montpelier, taking with him his oldest 
little boy, William, to wait upon him. There were at that 
time a number of Indian tribes in Vermont receiving annui- 
ties from the Government, and some of them had sent repre- 
sentatives to present their claims to the council. Among 
these was an old chief who, in the prosecution of his suit, 
visited Doctor Todd at his lodging to solicit his influence, 
and happened to call when he was dressing his wound. 
"Ah!" exclaimed the old Indian, "him velly bad! Indian 
do him good." He went away immediately, and after a 
time returned with some leaves of a plant called " tory 
weed," and told the doctor to apply them to the wound, 
using fresh ones every day, and, when the leaves were gone, 
to make a decoction of the root. The learned physician fol- 



HIS INFANCY. 25 

lowed the prescription of his savage professional brother, 
and the inflammation then first began to abate. 

It soon became evident to the doctor, however, that he 
could no longer work as .formerly. His health was broken, 
his business injured by his enforced neglect of it, his de- 
ranged wife nnable to care for his large family. In these 
circumstances he determined to return to the land of his 
kindred. He first made a preliminary trip in company with 
a friend, for the purpose of making arrangements for the re- 
moval of his family. Their route lay through Branford, and 
past a small cabin where two of the servants of his uncle, 
the old minister, were then living — Tamar, who had often 
carried the doctor in her arms when he was a child, and 
Prim, her husband. They stopped at the door, and sent in 
word by a little boy that Doctor Todd had come. The mo- 
ment that Tamar heard the name she came rushing out, and, 
climbing into the carriage, took up the doctor, crutches and 
all, and carried him into the house as if he had been a child 
as of old, and she a strong young nurse, instead of an old 
woman of more than seventy years. Having placed him in 
a chair, she began to dance and caper about him, weeping 
and laughing at the same time, and making the most ex- 
travagant demonstrations of joy. In the midst of it she dis- 
patched the little boy to the field to call Prim, and at the 
news he came running as fast as his old legs could carry 
him, and joined his wife in her demonstrations with hardly 
inferior zeal. It was with difficulty that the doctor could 
call their attention to his neglected friend, who stood laugh- 
ing by. On perceiving him, they were profuse in humble 
apologies. They insisted that their guests should remain to 
dine, and prepared as royal a dinner as they could. The 
doctor often declared that he had never sat down to a bet- 
ter. The guests tried to prevail upon their hosts to sit 
down with them at their own table ; but it was of no use ; 
they had never been brought up to do so, and preferred to 
wait on " massa doctor." Such power had the doctor to 
win the affection of all around him. When he was no 
more, poor Tamar wept bitterly, often complaining that her 
friends were all gone. 

Having made the necessary arrangements, Doctor Todd 
returned for his family, and took them down to East Guil- 



26 JOHN TODD. 

ford, carrying little John in his own arms all the way. He 
did not, however, yet abandon the idea of living in Vermont. 
Having partially recovered his strength, he went by sea to 
Boston, where he purchased a stock of medicines, paints, and 
dyes, thinking that the lameness which disabled him as a 
practicing physician would still permit him to keep a drug- 
store. From Boston he went to St. Albans, the town which 
he had selected as his home, and there he purchased a house 
and lot. But just at this time he was seized with a terrible 
sickness, and lay for months at the house of his younger 
brother, John, suffering fearfully, and requiring " two watch- 
ers every night for a hundred and twenty-six nights." As 
soon as he had recovered sufficiently to attempt it, he jour- 
neyed by easy stages down to East Guilford and rejoined 
his family. He now determined to abandon Vermont as a 
place of residence, convinced that its "pestiferous air, the 
effluvia of its lakes and creeks, would destroy" him Going 
to Boston once more, he disposed of his medicines satisfac- 
torily ; and thence going to St. Albans again, he tried to dis- 
pose of his property there. Having waited three weeks in 
vain, and finding his health again giving way, he threw a 
few movables into his carriage, left his property for his broth- 
er to dispose of, and hastened from the State. Many years 
after this, his son, visiting this younger brother of his father, 
wrote : 

" It seems that when my father left Vermont, he got John 
to sell his property. For this he took notes instead of mon- 
ey. These notes were put into the hands of lawyers to col- 
lect, for which notes they gave him receipts. They collected 
the money, and have it yet ! He has put into my hands 
such receipts of lawyers to the amount of thirteen hundred 
dollars. He seems to insist upon my taking these vouchers, 
though I have no thought of ever trying to find the men; 
He says, also, that my father purchased for each of his seven 
children a lot of one hundred and twenty acres, on Lake 
Memphremagog. This was all paid for, but no deed was 
ever sent. I think of carting it down, and putting it with 
the land in Missouri which I bought of Doctor ." 

With the remnant of his property Doctor Todd purchased 
"a pleasant and beautiful house and lot" in Killingworth, 
in the immediate neighborhood of all his own and his wife's 



HIS INFANCY. 27 

relatives ; and here the mind of " 'ittle Daw," as he called 
himself, began to unfold. "The first thing I remember is, 
living in a two-story peach-blow colored house in Killing- 
worth." On visiting the place in after -years, he wrote: 
"My walk was up a well-known avenue, on the banks of a 
beautiful pond. Here I found that a grove, once grand and 
charming, and where the woodland songsters had often be- 
guiled many an hour made melancholy by grief occasioned 
by the loss of friends, had fallen by the axe, to make room 
for several rows of insignificant poplars. On arriving at the 
house endeared to me by the tenderest recollections, my feel- 
ings were indescribable. My memory was crowded with the 
past before I entered. The garden where my father had led 
me when a child, and pointed out the beauties of each flow- 
eret ; the yard where in innocency we sported, ere I, my 
brothers, and sisters were scattered ; the willow under whose 
shade my mother taught me my letters — these all were be- 
fore me." 

The doctor's object in settling in Killingworth was " the 
practice of physic and surgery." "Whether," he writes, "I 
shall enjoy my health here, God will determine. I submit 
my cause to him, and humbly hope in his mercy. It appears 
to me his providence has wanted me to seek a residence be- 
neath a milder sky than the stagnant pools of Vermont." 
Meantime he looks forward with hopefulness, and playfully 
urges an old friend to make him a visit. " We can enter- 
tain you ; we can give you marine diet ; we can show you 
the grandest scenes in nature, the ebbing and flowing of the 
tide, and many other things which speak the wisdom and 
power of God." 

But these hopes were disappointed. The doctor's health 
became more and more feeble; he was scarcely able to prac- 
tice at all ; and as he had saved but little from the wreck of 
his fortunes in Vermont, his large young family began to be 
in want, and the clouds of poverty, sickness, and distress, 
settled down lower and lower upon them. 

" My father was very fond of a garden, and, though he 
was so lame, he always managed to have a good one. One 
year he had about an acre of ground in potatoes ; and when 
it came autumn, he found he could not dig them himself, and 
so he encouraged me to see what I could do. I dug, that 



28 JOHN TODD. 

season, ten bushels of potatoes myself. I was a little fellow, 
in a green flannel petticoat and some kind of sack, and did 
not wear pantaloons till the next year. It was often re- 
marked afterward, when any thing was said about my going 
to college, that it was ' a pity to spoil such a good boy for 
work.' " 

Of a mother's love and influence he was, from the first, al- 
most totally deprived. Besides her teaching him his letters, 
already referred to, he seems to have had but one important 
recollection of her. 

" I can truly say I have never met with any loss so great 
as that of losing the care and instructions of my mother 
during my childhood, in consequence of her having lost her 
reason. But I can recollect that when a very little child 
I was standing at the open window, at the close of a lovely 
summer's day. The large red sun was just sinking away 
behind the western hills ; the sky was gold and purple com- 
mingled ; the winds were sleeping, and a soft, solemn still- 
ness seemed to hang over the earth. I was watching the 
sun as he sent his yellow rays through the trees, and felt a 
kind of awe, though I knew not wherefore. Just then my 
mother came to me. She was raving with frenzy, for reason 
had long since left its throne, and her a victim of madness. 
She came up to me, wild with insanity. I pointed to the 
glorious sun in the west, and in a moment she was calm. 
She took my little hands within hers, and told me that ' the 
great God made the sun, the stars, the world, every thing; 
that he it was who made her little boy, and gave him an 
immortal spirit ; that yonder sun, and the green fields, and 
the world itself, will one day be burned up, but that the 
spirit of her child will then be alive, for he must live when 
heaven and earth are gone ; that he must pray to the great 
God, and love and serve him forever.' She let go my hands 
— madness returned — she hurried away. I stood with my 
eyes filled with tears, and my little bosom heaving with 
emotions which I could not have described ; but I can never 
forget the impressions which that conversation of my poor 
mother left upon me ! Oh, what a blessing would it have 
been, had the inscrutable providence of God given me a 
mother who could have repeated these instructions, accom- 
panied by her prayers, through all the days of my child- 



HIS INFANCY. 29 

hood ! But — * Even so, Father, for so it seemeth good in 
thy sight.' " 

His mother's paroxysms seem to have been at times real- 
ly dangerous. 

"At one time my poor mother obtained a naked sword, 
and ran toward me to give the fatal thrust, when an unseen 
hand seemed to seize her arm, and the point of the sword 
stopped within a few inches of my breast." 

Of his father he preserved but few distinct recollections. 

"I had one of the kindest and best of fathers: he used to 
carry me to school before him on his horse, to help me in 
my little plans, and always tried to make me happy; and 
he never seemed so happy himself as when making me hap- 
py. I can remember that he used to attend family prayers, 
especially for the last six months of his life. My sister 
Elizabeth used to read a chapter in the Bible, his eyes being 
weak. I have but a very confused remembrance of his man- 
ner of praying." But though his recollections of his father 
were indistinct, he must have received deep impressions of 
his father's tenderness and goodness; for he always spoke 
and wrote of him with the greatest affection, for years often 
visited and wept at his grave, and in the last hours of life 
arranged for the erection of a new and worthier monument 
to stand over his dust. 

" When I was about six years old my father was taken sick, 
and after a time died. He visited my Aunt Matilda the day 
before he was taken sick, and told her that this was the last 
visit he should ever make her. What made him think so, I 
know not ; but his prediction proved true. The next day he 
came home very sick. My mother, too, was sick ; and thus 
nobody but my two sisters could take care of my father. In 
a few days he was worse, very sick, and all the physicians 
in the district were called in to see him. The next Sabbath 
morning, early, he was evidently much worse. As I went 
into the room, he stretched out his hand to me, and said, 
'My little boy, I am very sick. I wish you to take that 
paper on the stand, and run down to Mr. Carter's, and get 
me the medicine written on that paper.' I took the paper, 
and went to the apothecary's shop, as I had often done be- 
fore. It was about half a mile off; but when I got there I 
found it shut; and as Mr. Carter lived a quarter of a mile 



30 JOHN TODD. 

farther off, I concluded not to go to find him. I then set 
out for home. On my way back I contrived what to say. 
I knew how wicked it was to tell a lie, but one sin always 
leads to another. On going in to my father, I saw that he 
was in great pain ; and though he was pale and weak, I 
could see great drops of sweat standing on his forehead, 
forced out by pain. Oh, then I was sorry I had not gone 
and found the apothecary ! At length he said to me, * My 
son has got the medicine, I hope, for I am in great pain.' 
I hung my head and muttered, for my conscience smote 
me, 'No,- sir; Mr. Carter says he has got none.' 'Has got 
none? Is this possible?' He then cast a keen eye upon 
me, and seeing my head hang, and probably suspecting my 
falsehood, said, in the mildest, kindest tone, ' My little boy 
will see his father suffer great pain for the want of that med- 
icine.' I went out of the room, and, alone, I cried. I was 
soon called back. My brothers had come, and were stand- 
ing — all the children were standing — round the bed, and he 
was committing my poor mother to their care, and giving 
them his last advice. He took my brother William affec- 
tionately by the hand, and, with a voice that drew tears 
from all eyes present, except his own, thus addressed him : 
'My dear son, I am now going to die, and in a short time I 
shall be laid in the cold grave. I leave seven fatherless 
children ; the family will look up to you. You must be a 
father to them all, and a husband to your poor mother. Be 
a good boy, my child, and do all you can for your mother, 
brothers, and sisters. Above all, make God your friend, and 
prepare to serve him here, and to enjoy him hereafter.' ' He 
said much more to my brother, but as I was very young I 
can not remember the remainder. These words, however, 
made such an impression upon me, that time never has, and 
never can efface them from my memory. He then called, 
me to his bedside, who was the youngest of all his children, 
and thus addressed me : ' John, my dear, come and see your 
poor papa once more. I shall not live long; your papa is 
now going to die ; in a few days you will see them bury 
him in the ground, and you will not have your papa any 
more. Oh, if you had a mother who could take care of you, 
I should leave you in peace ! But why should I not now ? 
That God who feeds the young birds when they cry, who 






HIS INFANCY. 31 

shelters the young lamb from the storm, who wraps the poor 
worm up in a leaf, will surely take care of you, my own dear 
boy. Never forget, after I am gone, that you have a better 
Father in heaven. Ask him to take care of you ; pray to 
him to be your father and make you good, for Jesus Christ's 
sake. Love him, obey him, and always do right, and speak 
the truth, because the eye of God is always upon you. Give 
your father one more kiss, John ; and now, farewell.' And 
then he laid his hand on my head again, and prayed for the 
blessing of God the Redeemer to rest upon me, ' soon to be 
a fatherless orphan.' I dared not look at him, I felt so guilty. 
Sobbing, I rushed from his bedside, and thought I wished 
I could die. They soon told me he could not speak. Oh, 
how much would I have given to go in and tell him that 
I had told a lie, and ask him once more to lay his hand on 
my head and forgive me ! I crept iu once more, and heard 
the minister pray for ' the dying man.' Oh, how my heart 
ached ! I snatched my hat, and ran to the apothecary's 
house, and got the medicine. I ran home with all my might, 
and ran in, and ran up to my father's bedside to confess my 
sin, crying out, ' Oh, here, father !' but I was hushed ; and 
then I saw that he was pale, and that all in the room were 
weeping. My dear father was dead ! And the last thing 
that I ever spoke to him was to tell a lie ! I sobbed as if 
my heart would break. 

"The poor widow sat aside from the rest of the mourners, 
for her sorrow had no communion with theirs. She uttered 
a kind of deep moan, talking continually about the steep 
mountain side, and apprehending that ' the doctor would 
be thrown from his carriage before reaching home.' And 
then she would go to the window, and look out as she used 
to do, and complain that the mountain road was so dark 
that she could not see it. 

"The next day the children were in the room, planning 
with a neighbor about the funeral. They could" all appear 
decent except myself: I had no shoes. A poor widow, half 
a mile off, offered to lend me her little boy's for that occa- 
sion, glad to do even a Kttle for the family of one who had 
often been with her in the hour of trouble and distress. 
They gladly availed themselves of the offer, and I followed 
my father to the grave in a pair of borrowed shoes. 



32 JOHN TODD. 

"It was early in December, cold, but no snow on the 
ground. The sad afternoon came, and I sat down in my 
borrowed shoes, wondering at all that took place. The peo- 
ple gathered till the house was full. All the men in the vil- 
lage whom I had looked upon as wonderful men were there. 
I wondered why they did not all feel as bad, and cry, as my 
mother did; what the minister meant by praying so much 
about orphans; and what I should do without any father. 
And when the coffin was placed on the bier, and the men 
lifted it up on their shoulders, I wondered if it was not very 
heavy; and when the lawyer put his shoulder under, I 
wished none but lawyers might carry my father to the 
grave. The bell tolled slow and loud as they moved down 
the street, and I thought it never sounded so solemn before. 
When they got to the grave, dug close to the great oak- 
tree, I wondered why none but doctors let down the coffin, 
and how they could do it so gently and so carefully. When 
they had filled up the grave, and covered all out of sight, I 
wondered if ray poor father would not feel cold and dreary 
in that dark grave alone. 

" So the funeral was over, and all left the grave without 
saying a single word. In the evening I carried home the 
borrowed shoes, and told the poor woman all about the fu- 
neral, not without bursts of tears, and thanked her for the 
shoes. 'John,' said she, in the kindest tones she could com- 
mand, 'John, you have no father now. Your poor mother 
can't take care of you children. You must, I see, break up 
and be scattered. You can't live together any longer. Oh, 
don't cry ! I don't want to make you cry, but want to say 
that God will take care of you, and be a father to you.' 
'The very words that my poor father said to me,' I sobbed. 
'Well, your father knew what he was saying. He was a 
praying man, and has done so much for the poor, that, though 
he died very, very poor, God won't let his children suffer. 
It is better than gold, John, to have prayers laid up in 
heaven for you. And now I have only to say, be a good 
boy, and you will make a good man. By "good boy" I mean, 
never tell a lie on any occasion ; never steal the least or the 
greatest thing, not even a pin ; never swear or use bad 
words ; keep away from bad boys ; be gentle and kind to 
your mother; and never forget to say your prayers. Can 



HIS INFANCY. 33 

you promise all this ?' ' I will do it all as you say,' I replied. 
' Very well ; now, take this piece of gingerbread, and good- 
night; and may God bless you.' This was many, many 
years ago ; but I never forgot the impressions of that fu- 
neral, and of the borrowed shoes. The poor woman has 
been dead a very long time. Perhaps hardly one lives who 
remembers her. But the words that she dropped live ; and 
nobody can tell how much they had to do in the forming of 
the character of a minister of Christ. 

"A few days after the funeral the children were sitting 
together, planning how they might procure a pair of shoes 
for little John. At length it occurred to them that their fa- 
ther might have a demand against some honest shoe-maker 
to an amount that would procure the shoes. At once they 
fell to conning over his day-book, and, to their great joy, 
soon found a demand sufficiently large. The shoes were 
procured, and I borrowed no more. 

"One pleasant day not long after this, just at evening, Doc- 
tor Mansfield, the pastor of Killingworth, was taking his us- 
ual walk, after spending the day in study. He was a good 
old man, and had long been faithful to the beloved people 
of his charge. The sun was pouring his last rays into the 
golden sky, as he entered the village grave-yard. When he 
came to the spot where lay his wife and three beautiful 
daughters, he leaned on his staff, and bent over these graves, 
and was just marking out by their side the sj:>ot where he 
hoped shortly to lie in peace, when he was startled by hear- 
ing the sobs of a child. He turned, and at a little distance 
beheld the little white-headed John, who was kneeling and 
sobbing over the grave of his father. With a melting heart 
the good shepherd approached the child of his friend, and 
with the tenderness of a father he raised and kissed this or- 
phan lamb of his flock, and sat down beside the grave, and 
pressed the weeping boy to his bosom. ' Oh, sir!' said the 
child, * let me cry for my father : he lies deep in that grave ; 
they tell me he will never again be my father; I fear that I 
have offended him, that he will no more be my father, and I 
want to ask him to forgive me, and to kiss me as he used to 
do. Oh, if he would once more be my father, I would never 
again offend him ! But they say he is dead. Oh, I would sit 
here and cry all night, I would never stop, if my poor father 

3 



34 JOHN TODD. 

would come to me ! But he will not come; for a few days 
before they put him into this hole he told me that he was 
'going to leave me, and that I should never have a father 
any more ; and he stroked my hair with his sick hand, and 
told me that when he was buried in the ground I must be a 
good boy, and love God. Oh, my poor, good father !' 

" The feeling pastor pressed the hand of the sorrowing 
child within his; and ere he could answer him he had wet 
with his tears the silken hair of the orphan. His first object 
was to soothe him into confidence, and then to direct him 
to a Father who would never forsake him. With patience 
he satisfied his curiosity respecting death, how it is a long- 
sleep, but that the voice of God will one day awake even 
the dead. He told him how death was introduced into the 
world, and made him understand that it was the consequence 
of sin. He explained to him the natural depravity of the 
heart, how ' we, like sheep, have all gone astray.' He la- 
bored to impress upon him a correct view of the character 
of God, his attributes of love, mercy, justice, etc., and then 
explained how we might be saved by Jesus Christ. He 
next strove deeply to impress upon the listening boy what 
is * the chief end of man,' and thus concluded, while his lit- 
tle hearer seemed to hang upon his lips: 'And now, my dear 
little boy, you have indeed lost a tender father ; but I have 
been trying to point you to a Father who has promised 
never, to forsake the poor orphan.' 'But,' said the child, 
'what is it to be an orphan?' 'It is to be left destitute of 
parents while we are yet children.' ' Oh yes, but what is 
a poor orphan ?' The clergyman was affected, but replied, 
'It is a child who is left destitute of property as well as 
parents.' 'Oh! I wish,' said the child, in the simplicity of 
his heart, 'I wish that I were a poor orphan, if God would 
be my father.' The good minister wept; for he knew that 
the child's wish respecting property would be fully satisfied. 
' I trust, my dear child, that God will be your father. You 
know how short are our lives, how certain our death, how 
much we have to do to prepare for death, and how we 
should devote our lives to God, that we may meet death 
with peace. I hope you will not only be good, and live so 
as to meet your poor father in heaven, but I hope your life 
will be spent in trying to do good to others.' The clergy- 



HIS INFANCY. 35 

man held the hand of the child, and they knelt in prayer on 
the grave. The petition was that God would provide for 
the little orphan. He led the child to his place of residence, 
soothed his grief, and determined to adopt and make him 
his child. But God ordered otherwise. The faithful pastor 
was soon after laid upon the bed of death, and left the child 
the second time an orphan. He passed through many trials, 
but was ever protected by the tender mercy of God. At 
the age of sixteen he believed that he experienced the opera- 
tions of the Spirit of God upon his heart. He thought of 
this interview with the good clergyman, and of his advice, 
his prayers, and his wishes ; and he dedicated his life to the 
service of God." 

Upon the death of Doctor Todd his family was necessari- 
ly broken up and scattered. Little John found a home with 
his father's youngest sister, Matilda, who had married John 
Hamilton, of North Killingworth. How he was taken to 
her house is related in the following letter, written thirty- 
five years later, when she who had all her lifetime been sub- 
ject to the bondage of a peculiar fear of death was drawing 
near the dark passage : 

" My dear Aunt, — I am sorry to hear that you are fee- 
ble, perhaps I should say sick, and even that there is fear on 
your part that you are not to be better in this world. I am 
afraid that I shall make but a poor comforter in these cir- 
cumstances, and yet I know there are waters enough in the 
wells of salvation, if I only knew how to draw them up. 
You send me word that you would be glad to see me, and, 
if possible, I shall come ; but I am so situated by sicknesses 
that it may not be in my power. You also tell me that 
your life looks barren and dreary, and that you tremble at 
the coming of death. I am not going to try to cheer you 
by telling what you have done for the Master during your 
past life. But I want you to recall one circumstance, for 
the sake of illustrating what I want to say. 

" You remember that it is now thirty-five years since my 
father died, and left me, a little boy six years old, without a 
mother, Avithout a home, and with nobody to care for me. 
It was then that you sent word that you would take me 
and give me a home, and be as a mother to me. Every body 



36 JOHN TODD. 

said, ' It's very kind in her to do that.' But I was too young 
to realize any thing of that nature. It seemed to nie a per- 
fectly natural thing that you should do so. I wondered what 
kind of a house you lived in, and whether you had chickens 
and hens. At length the day was set when I was to go to 
you, ten miles off. What a long journey it seemed to me ! 
And I well remember how disappointed I was that, instead 
of coming for me yourself, you sent old Caesar, the great, fat, 
black man, to bring me to you. How my heart sunk within 
me when he came, and I was told that I was to ride on the 
horse behind him, sitting on the blanket ! But he told me 
that 'old Kate was very gentle to little boys,' and that you 
said I might bring Echo, my little dog, with me. So we set 
out, just before night. Caesar took my bundle of clothing 
before him, and me behind him, and Echo ran beside us. But 
before long, before we got to your house, I began to feel 
tired. My legs ached, and I was tired of taking hold of 
Caesar. By-and-by.the evening and the darkness came on, 
and I felt afraid ; then we had a long piece of woods to go 
through. I had heard of bears and tigers and Indians, and 
did not know how many might be in the woods. Caesar, too, 
was so dark that I could not see him, and he jogged on with- 
out saying a word. He had no idea that I was afraid. 

" ' Caesar, ain't we most there ?' said I, in my terror. 

"'Yes, when we have got through these woods we shall 
see the candle in the house.' ■ 

" i Won't they be gone to bed ?' for it seemed to me it 
must be nearly morning. 

" ' Oh no, they will be all ready to receive us.' 

"But I trembled, and the tears ran down my face, and I 
wondered why I could not have somebody with me besides 
black Caesar. 

" But at last, after winding and turning, and going uphill 
and downhill, a long, long way, as it seemed to me, we came 
out of the woods, and then the stars shone ; and I was told 
which light was in your house. And when we got there you 
came out, and gently took me in your arms as Caesar handed 
me down ; and you called me your ' poor little boy,' and you 
led me gently in ; and there was the blazing, warm fire, the 
bright light, and the table spread, and the supper all waiting 
for me ! And that was my home ! My eyes now fill with 



HIS INFANCY. 37 

tears as I think it over. How you soothed ine, and warmed 
me, and put me to bed in the strange room, and heard me 
say my prayers, and staid with me till I was fast asleep ! 

" And now, my dear aunt, you see why I have recalled all 
this to your memory. Your heavenly Father will send for 
you — a dark messenger, it may be. And he will be your 
conductor, and carry you safely through the darkness of the 
way. He will not drop nor leave you, for he is a faithful 
servant. You need not feel afraid, for he knows the way, 
and will take you directly to your home. There the door 
will be open, and your dearest friend, the Lord Jesus Christ, 
will meet you and take you in, and the supper will be wait- 
ing, and the fires of love burning, and the light and glory of 
his presence all seen. What a welcome you will receive ! 
And, perhaps, the memory of what you did for me will come 
back upon you, bringing waves of pure joy. At any rate, 
don't fear the dark passage, nor the dark messenger. Re- 
ceive it all as the little child did, and you will find the home. 
My prayers will be for you till you are out of sight, and 
then I will look forward to meeting you again. 
" Ever, ever yours, most gratefully, 

"John Todd." 



38 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER III. 

HIS CHILDHOOD. 

North Killing-worth. — The Skipper's Wife. — Tim's youngest Boy.— Primitive 
Times.— An old Church.— Birthplaces.— The first Hat.— Death of Echo — 
The murdered Phebe. — The kind Uncle. — A Brave old Man. — Near the 
College. — The long Fish-pole. — The old Eagle-tree. — Madison. — Near the 
Sea. — The old Duck-gun. — White Stones.— Changes. — The old House.— 
Three great Men.— Forth Afoot. 

" In the State of Connecticut, eight or ten miles from Long- 
Island Sound, and parallel with it, there runs through the 
State, east and west, a high ridge of stony, hilly, and broken 
ground. It is so rocky and uneven that but a small part of 
it can be cultivated. The rest grows to wood. Hence, be- 
ginning west, we have Ridgefield, North Fairfield, North Ha- 
ven, North Branford, North Guilford, North Madison, North 
Killingworth, etc. These little towns occupy this ridge. The 
people who inhabit them are not rich, but are industrious, 
honest, sober, and, as I think, the most primitive people in 
New England. They are, however, shrewd, well-educated, 
and, if the civilization of our day has not carried the highest 
fashions and follies among them, barbarism, certainly, is no 
part of their inheritance. 

" When I was a child, I lived among this people from the 
age of six to that of twelve. This was in North Killing- 
worth, before Clinton, the south part of the town, was set off 
a town by itself." » 

His aunt, Matilda Hamilton, " lived in a very humble dwell- 
ing. She was naturally of a cheerful disposition. She put 
the best face on every thing, was well-educated and lady- 
like. Moreover, she was a humble Christian. She was the 
wife of a skipper, or captain, an honest, good-hearted half- 
farmer and half-sailor, who in general treated me with kind- 
ness, but who, from defects in his own education, and from a 
want of self-government, was no desirable example for such 
a child to copy. He never prospered in the world, and dur- 
ing his voyages, his family had a poor, hard life. When the 



HIS CHILDHOOD. 39 

woman's ability to manage her little farm of twenty acres 
of rough, stony ground failed, she would send John to the 
neighbors to ask a little help in planting or harvesting. 

"Ah, I do remember it all! I long to go there and see 
if the red house is there; if the willow-tree which I tugged 
up from old Mr. Hamilton's, and which uncle and I set out, 
is still standing ; whether the orchard looks as it used to, 
and the 'coal-pit lot,' and the ' maple sugar-tree lot.' I want 
to go there and look toward Uncle Abner's and Mr. Jerry 
Hull's, and cry, as I used to do when you were gone away 
and I stood out by the gate, watching and crying for your 
return ! That spot ! Others may fade from my memory, 
but every inch of ground from c Parker's Hill ' over to the 
' East School-house,' and even down to ' the cove,' will re- 
main. I have forgotten nothing ; and I hope God will yet 
give me the power to show you that I am grateful for your 
care of a poor orphan, even 'Tim's youngest boy.' 

"As I rode up, a few days ago, through the lonely, wild 
hills, covered with bushes and trees, and the glories of early 
summer, every thing seemed to look just as I left it fifty- 
eight years ago. The wild profusion of azaleas, which made 
the woods blush with beauty and the air to be rich in per- 
fumes; the thrush which hung upon the very top of the 
tree, and poured out his notes so full and rich — the mocking- 
bird of the North; the mountain laurel, just beginning to 
open its beautiful pink corrugated blossoms ; the little nerv- 
ous wren, chatting and twisting himself every moment — 
why, they seemed the very flowers and birds that I saw and 
heard sixty years ago ! The hills and ravines, and the little 
brooks — just as I left them, and just as they will look sixty 
years hence ! The fleecy clouds that lazily hung overhead, 
the dim outlines of the Sound, where the sky and the water 
met and blended together, and Long Island, like a dark rib- 
bon lying beyond the water, and the dim haze through 
which the vessels, like little specks on the face of a mirror, 
were seen — all looked just as they did in the eyes of my 
childhood. I never saw, in those six years, but one four- 
wheeled carriage, a huge, lumbering sort of hack, which a 
well-to-do farmer procured in order to carry his family to 
meeting, a marvel to us boys. The ox-cart was the only 
vehicle, save the ox-sled in winter. The people were scat- 



40 JOHN TODD. 

tered far and wide among the little glens, and rode to meet- 
ing, man and wife, brother and sister, on saddle and pillion, 
when they did not walk, which was the lot of all youth and 
children. The young ladies used to wear their every -day 
shoes and stockings till within a short distance of the meet- 
ing-house, when they would take them off, thrust them into 
the stone-wall, and put on their best. Those laid up were 
never molested. I never saw lock or bolt on a house, and 
never knew a door fastened at night. 

"The old square, barn-looking meeting-house, standing on 
the ledges, on their very brink, with 'Bear Swamp' lying 
at their feet — how shall I describe it ? It had a door on 
the west, and another on the south, with underpinning and 
door-steps all of stone, but all awry. There was a great 
hole in the underpinning, into which w T e boys used to thrust 
our heads, almost expecting to see the eyes of the last bear 
from ' Bear Swamp.' The house was fifty-eight feet long by 
thirty-eight wide, originally of a kind of peach-blow color, 
but the blossoms seemed all to have been pressed together, 
till no shade of color could know itself. The pews were 
square boxes, and the house had originally been 'dignified' 
by an able committee, and ever after every body knew which 
pews were aristocratic and which plebeian. Once a year 
the families were all seated anew by a committee, and if 
there were not heart-burnings when a family was thrust into 
a pew higher or lower than was right and proper, then hu- 
man nature must have been in an abnormal state. In the 
middle of the north side was the pulpit, and the deacons' 
seat beneath it. Over the minister's head hung a ' sound- 
ing-board,' and great were our childish fears lest the iron 
rod on which it hung should break, and let it fall on the 
minister's head. Just over the road, on the west, was a lit- 
tle green spot where 'the trainers' used to parade on 
' training-day,' a most magnificent spectacle ! one fife and 
drum, and a company of men transmuted into soldiers. 
Near by were a number of rough, stone-built ' Sabba'-day 
houses,' where the people flocked at noon, for warmth in 
winter (they had chimneys), and coolness in summer. Here 
they ate their simple pocket-inclosed lunch, told and heard 
the news, and, I suspect, gossiped somewhat. In those days 
there were no Sabbath -schools, and at noon the children 



HIS CHILDHOOD, 41 

were drawn up in front of the deacons' seat, and ' catechised,' 
that is, repeated the 'Assembly's Catechism ' to good Dea- 
con Pierson ; and great was our joy when we received the 
good man's smile of approbation. But was not this a hard- 
ship? Not at all; we enjoyed it. But was that old cate- 
chism dry ? We never thought of it in that light. But did 
you understand it? Yes, just as well as I now understand 
one of Euclid's definitions: 'a point is that which has posi- 
tion but not magnitude;' or President Webber's definition, 
from Harvard College: 'number is the abstract ratio of one 
quantity for another of the same kind, taken for unity.' 
There's for you ! 

"That little old house up the stony road was the birth- 
place of Asahel Nettleton, one of the most remarkable men 
the world ever saw. In the little red school-house on ' Par- 
ker's Hill,' I heard him preach what was said to have been 
his first sermon, certainly the first he ever preached in his 
native place. I recollect that his subject was Balak and Ba- 
laam, and that he was very awkward, frequently bending 
the knees as if making a courtesy. How different from 
what he was when, a student in Yale College, I heard him 
in 1820! No one who did not hear him in those days can 
have any idea of the power of this preacher. The school- 
house, where all were packed closely around him, where 
they hardly breathed, and where the Holy Ghost literally 
fell upon them, this was the throne of his power. 

"Another very small house was the birthplace of Rev. 
Titus Coan, known the world over as missionary on the 
Sandwich Islands, and pastor of the largest church on the 
face of the earth. He is still living, and so we'll not say 
what we think of him." 

It was among such scenes and associations that John's 
early childhood was spent. As he grew older and stronger, 
" he worked hard for his food, and for a part of his clothing. 
He trapped furs for the rest. Mink and musk-rat skins 
bought the first hat he ever wore — his own Sunday hat." 

Two trifling incidents occurred in this part of his child- 
hood (but in childhood trifles are important) which illus- 
trate, and perhaps increased, the great tenderness of his 
character — the death of Echo, and that of the phebe. 

Echo was the little dog that ran by his side when he rode 



42 JOHX TODD. 

to his aunt's, behind Caesar — " a small white dog, with yel- 
low ears, long, silky, and curling hair, and a face so bright 
and intelligent that it almost laughed. He was a very 
knowing fellow, and a great favorite with the neighborhood 
generally, and with his owner in particular. Being left by 
my father at his death, he was a kind of keepsake of the 
dead. When he was a mere pup, a boy carried him down 
to one of the wharves in New York to throw him off and 
drown him. Just as he was about to give him a toss, my 
father came along and pitied him. The boy gave him up, 
and he was so small that my father actually put him in his 
great-coat pocket, and carried him home. It was evening 
when he arrived, and as he put him down on the floor the 
clock struck nine, and immediately he attempted to bark. 
Hence my father gave him the name of Echo. The dog was 
a great favorite with him ; and as soon as he got large 
enough he used to go with him to visit his sick patients. 
But he was tried for the crime of killing sheep ; and though 
his owner and friends made great efforts to prove that it 
must have been some other dog, yet the testimony was so 
full and so decided that he stood convicted, his life forfeit- 
ed by law, and the tears of the family could not save him. 
He was condemned to be shot ! I did not know, and I did 
not want to know, the particulars. I only know that I spoke 
to him in tears, and he followed a nian with a gun into 
the woods, and never came back again. It seems now that 
if I could see him again I should know him from all the 
dogs in the world." [In all his life he never owned an- 
other dog.] 

"My uncle and aunt were very kind to every body and 
every thing. Nobody had so many swallows making their 
nests under the roof of their barn. Nobody had so many 
martin-birds in their red box at the end of their little red 
house, as they. Nobody had so many little chattering, 
flitting, joyous wrens as they. Nobody had so many pets 
that seemed to love them, as they. Among other things 
was a very tame phebe-bird. For seven years she had come 
after the long winter was over, and built her nest in the 
same place, and there reared and educated her young phebes. 
One day she had just returned, and, as she had no note but 
to repeat her own name, she cried 'phebe,' ' phebe,' as if 



HIS CHILDHOOD. 43 

glad to get back. I used to throw stones ; and, as I had no 
other boy very near me, I threw them till I became quite 
accurate. In the course of the day I thought I would try 
my skill upon old phebe. She stood upon a post near the 
spot where she was to build her nest, and looked at me with 
all confidence, as much as to say, 'You won't hurt me.' I 
found a nice stone, and poising my arm, I threw it with my 
utmost skill. It struck poor phebe on the head, and she 
dropped dead. I was sorry the moment I saw her fall; but 
it was all done. All day long her mate came round and 
called 'phebe,' 'phebe,' in tones so sad that it made my 
heart ache. Why had I taken a life so innocent, and made 
the poor mate grieve so? I said nothing to the Hamiltons 
about it ; but they found it out ; and, though they never 
said a word to me about it, I knew that they mourned for 
the bird, and were deeply grieved at my cruelty. That 
stone rebounded and hit me. How deep a wound it made 
upon my memory ! For fifty years I have carried it, though 
I have never spoken of it before ; and I would make great 
sacrifices to-day if I could undo that one deed." 

His quiet life was varied with occasional visits to East 
Guilford. His father's older brother, Jonathan, was very 
kind to the orphans, and always gave them a welcome, 
though he had a large family of his own. 

At these visits often, as well as sometimes at home, he 
met his father's younger and only other brother, after whom 
he was named, and to whom he was specially attached. He 
was then living in Vermont. 

"I loved him from my childhood; for he was one of the 
very few who used to speak to me in the tones of hearth and 
home that make you feel that the cords which bind you to 
kindred are not all gone. He was the only One, after my 
father's death, who would take me into his arms. What 
child does not love to be fondled ? And what remembrances 
do the days of childhood send down to later years, and make 
one wish that such and such things, wholly beyond our con- 
trol, but which formed our characters, had been otherwise ! 
It is sad to see the last leaves of the tree thus fall off, and to 
know that on earth they can never be renewed. You will 
recollect that I had no father, and my two uncles had all 
the love of my young heart. Do you wonder, then, that I 



44 JOHN TODD. 

drop a tear at the death of the last one of that generation 
whom I loved, or who loved me?" 

The story of this Uncle John is worthy of mention, as 
having had, undoubtedly, an influence on the nephew, and 
as illustrating the energy characteristic of the family. 

" Like myself, he was the youngest son. Losing his fa- 
ther at an early age, he had no one to guide him. When 
a mere youth, he pushed up into Vermont. Here he grew 
into manhood, and rose to be high sheriff. Those were the 
days of strong drink. He was tempted in that new state 
of society, and he fell. He drank with the same energy 
that he did every thing else. He had a constitution like 
iron, and he stood long before he fell. He at last drank 
up character, reputation, property, and every thing else. 
When he found himself down at the lowest point, like the 
thief among the robbers, he picked himself up, and alone, 
without either friend or acquaintance, he went to Western 
New York. Here he put off the slough, and became at 
once sober, upright, and energetic, and educated his chil- 
dren. For the last twenty years he paid one -twelfth of 
the expenses of supporting the Gospel at Manlius. He was 
a reader, something of a schemer, but his sound judgment 
so predominated over every thing else that he seldom made 
a mistake. A warmer friend is rarely found. He was a 
strong swimmer, but the torrent into which he was early 
thrown was too powerful for his strength ; but he buffeted 
it long, and when every one supposed he was gone, his 
arm alone grasped the shore and pulled him out. He was 
never guilty of a dishonest, or mean, or ignoble act. His 
sins were those of the great-hearted. His last sickness was 
severe, but calm ; and though fears had for years shut out 
the sunlight of hope, yet his last days and hours were bright. 
Every cloud went from the sky, and the sun of life went 
down full-orbed and beautiful. Poor old man ! he never, 
probably, received a farthing in the way of aid, yet he died 
worth twenty-iive or thirty thousand dollars, and has left 
an honest name. But his name will soon be forgotten — a 
fact which, I presume, is wormwood and bitterness to the 
thoughts of each one of the proud race to which I belong. 

"In the year 1810, my Uncle Hamilton being a prisoner 
among the Spaniards, my aunt broke up housekeeping for 



ma CHILDHOOD. 45 

one winter, and I went to live with Mr. Evarts, at New 
Haven. I went to school to Mr. Jarman." 

Mr. Jeremiah Evarts was his own cousin, a son of his fa- 
ther's oldest sister, and was at that time practicing law in 
New Haven. He had married a daughter of the celebrated 
Roger Sherman, and was residing on Chapel Street, just op- 
posite the college buildings. He had quite a large family, 
having a number of gentlemen connected with the college 
at his table. Little "Johnny" was employed in waiting 
upon the table, running of errands, and doing a small boy's 
work about the house. It was, undoubtedly, in the family 
of this eminent man, and in this collegiate atmosphere, that 
that desire for a college education, which afterward became 
so strong, began to spring up in the boy's, mind. 

"In the spring, Uncle Hamilton having returned, I went 
again to live with him, and work with him on the farm. 
This was the happiest period of my childhood. I worked 
hard, ate and slept well, and was in perfect health. I had 
for my companions two boys of about my age, who lived in 
the neighborhood, and at whose house I was wont to visit 
often ; and they were very liberal with the best of apples 
and cider. The chief of our diversions were catching rab- 
bits and fishing. 

" They used to send me over ' to the cove,' where were 
a store and a small village. By the side of the store there 
stood, one day, a long cane fish-pole. It was very long, 
very straight, and very light. How I wanted that pole ! It 
seemed to me that if I could only own that pole I should be 
perfectly happy; the joints were so regular, it was mottled 
so beautifully, it tapered off so nicely. By great promises 
and efforts I finally got possession. How I mounted old 
Kate's back! She was frightened at first with such a long 
whip hanging over her. I well remember how the boys 
shouted after me, and the men and women smiled, and the 
dogs barked, as I rode home. It seemed to me that every 
body and every body's dog were out that day to laugh at 
my long pole. But I finally reached home, and instead of 
finding the family running out to greet me and admire my 
purchase (mind, I had run in debt for it, and knew it would 
take me a long time to pay the debt), they laughed, and 
asked, ' Why, John, what do you expect to do with that 



46 JOHN TODD. 

fish-pole?' Till that moment it had never occurred to me 
that there was not a pond within miles of me, and the only 
place where I could fish was a little brook running among 
the bushes, I using a pin hook and a pole four feet long. 
What could I do with my pole ? How I wished that Cedar 
Pond was near-by, or that our little brook was a great 
river! After lifting and whirling it a while, and 'make-be- 
lieve' fishing, I set it up against the house, there being no 
place inside to receive so long a concern. Looking at it, a 
few days after I had become the happy owner, I found I had 
set it up in the sun, and one whole joint had split open. So 
I concluded the pole was ruined. And what next? Why, 
I would make me a flute to be sure ! So I cut it up, and 
measured, and contrived, and with a burning-iron macje the 
mouth-hole, and the finger-holes, and felt quite proud of my 
flute. I saw it had no keys, and thought it looked quite as 
much like a fife as a flute. Well, fife it might be ; but, alas ! 
when I came to blow in it, not a sound would 'come, either 
flute or fife. That, too, was a failure. ' Never mind,' I said 
to myself, 'I can make some nice canes.' Out came my 
knife, and the poor pole was in half a dozen pieces ; but, in 
doing this, I broke and spoiled my knife. There the canes 
were ; but what then ? Who wanted them ? I tried to use 
one as I went to school ; but I found I did not need a cane ; 
it was in ray way; and when I wanted to chase a squirrel 
running on the fence, it was a burden, and I lost it or threw 
it away. Piece by piece went my pole, till not a foot of it 
was left; and yet to be paid for! Nor was that all; it 
seemed as if every body wanted to torment me about my 
pole. If the cattle got into the mowing-lot, they would cry, 
' John, your fish-pole will be capital for those cattle ;' if the 
canker-worms built a nest on the very top of the tree, it 
was, ' John, now for the fish-pole !' And when little Johnny 
dropped his cap in the well, he begged for my fish-pole to 
get it out. But there the debt was ; and how long and hard 
I had to try to earn and save till I had paid for it ! And it 
w r as many years before they ceased to hint about ' a good 
long fish-pole.' " 

It was in roaming over the hills and along the brooks, at 
this period, that he acquired the taste for, and skill in, wood- 
craft, which so manifested themselves in the vacations of his 



HIS CHILDHOOD. 47 

latter life. In the midst of his farm-labors and wood-sports, 
however, he still brooded in secret, and more and more, over 
the idea of going to college. 

" The little incident which I am about to mention was one 
among many which had an effect, probably a very decided 
effect, in forming the character of one who was left to be ed- 
ucated by the impressions of circumstances. I was work- 
ing on the farm with some men who happened to be em- 
ployed at that time. In a remote field stood a large tulip- 
tree, a tree apparently of a century's growth, and one of the 
most gigantic of that splendid species of tree. It looked 
like the father of the surrounding forest. On the top of 
this tree, for years an old eagle, commonly called ' the fishing- 
eagle,' had built her nest every year, and, unmolested, raised 
her young. This tree stood full ten miles from the sea- 
shore, and had long been known as the ' old eagle tree.' On 
a warm, sunny day, we were hoeing corn in an adjoining 
field. At a certain hour of the day the old eagle was known 
to set off for the sea-side, to gather food for the young. As 
she this day returned with a huge fish in her claws, the 
workmen surrounded the tree, and, by yelling, and hooting, 
and throwing stones, so scared the poor bird that she drop- 
ped her fish, and they carried it off in triumph. The men 
soon dispersed; but I sat down under a bush near by to 
watch, and to bestow unavailing pity. The bird soon re- 
turned to her nest without food. The eaglets at once set 
up a cry for food, so shrill, so clear, and so clamorous, that 
I was greatly moved. The parent bird seemed to try to 
soothe them ; but their appetites were too keen, and it was 
all in vain. She then perched herself on a limb near them, 
and looked down into the nest with a look that seemed to 
say, ' I know not what to do next.' Her indecision was but 
momentary ; again she poised herself, uttered one or two 
sharp notes, as if telling them to ' lie still,' balanced her 
body, spread her wings, and was away again for the sea. I 
now determined to see the result. My eye followed her till 
she grew small, smaller, a mere speck in the sky, and then 
disappeared. She was gone nearly two hours — about dou- 
ble her usual time for a voyage — when she again returned on 
a slow, weary wing, flying uncommonly low in order to have 
a heavier atmosphere to sustain her, with another fish in her 



48 JOHN TODD. 

talons. On nearing the field, she made a circuit around it 
to see if her enemies were again there. Finding the coast 
clear, she once more reached her tree, drooping, faint, and 
weary, and evidently nearly exhausted. Again the eaglets 
set up their cry, which was soon hushed by the distribution 
of a dinner such as — save the cooking — a king might ad- 
mire. 'Glorious bird !' cried I, in ecstasy and aloud ; ' what 
a spirit ! Other birds can fly more swiftly, others can sing 
more sweetly, others can scream more loudly; but what oth- 
er bird, when persecuted and robbed, when weary, when dis- 
couraged, when so far from the sea, would do what thou 
hast done ? I will learn a lesson from thee this day. I will 
never forget that when the spirit is determined it can do al- 
most any thing. Others would have drooped, and hung the 
head, and mourned over the cruelty of man, and sighed over 
the wants of the nestlings ; but thou, by at once recovering 
the loss, hast forgotten all. I will learn of thee, noble bird! 
I will remember this. I will set my mark high. I will try 
to do something, and to be something in the world ; and I 
will never yield to discouragements.' 

"There can be no doubt that my mind received an im- 
pression, and my decision of character an increase, from this 
circumstance, which was felt in all subsequent years. The 
next day, from the fullness of my heart, I inadvertently 
dropped a hint of my determination to go to college some 
day. The announcement was received with a shout of ridi- 
cule." And to ridicule subsequently succeeded opposition. 
But whoever at any time thought to turn John Todd from 
a fixed purpose by ridicule or opposition, did not know the 
man. "Were it required," writes one of his early teachers, 
now an old man of ninety, " to describe in a short sentence 
what I think was the crowning quality in his character, I 
might say that, next to the special grace of God, his success 
sprung from the firmness, the decision of his character." 

"In the fall of 1812,1 went to live with my uncle, Doctor 
Jonathan Todd, at East Guilford, that I might enjoy better 
means of schooling, my opportunities having as yet been 
small. My parting with Uncle and Aunt Hamilton can not 
be by my pen well described. I had lived with them six 
years, and they had been to me as parents. I could not bid 
my aunt ' good-bye,' for tears suppressed my utterance. I 



HIS CHILDHOOD. 49 

thought, as I walked to my uncle's dwelling (it was about 
ten miles), that I should never again be happy; and indeed 
I stopped many times on my way, and dropped showers of 
tears ; but, strange as it may appear, when I arrived at my 
uncle's I felt in as good spirits and as well as ever." 

The two years which he spent in his Uncle Jonathan's 
family were marked by no special incident. They were 
spent in much the same way as the preceding years, except 
that his advantages were on a little larger scale. The only 
really new influence which was brought to bear upon him 
was that of the sea. As on the ridges of North Killing- 
worth he had learned to love the forest and its craft, so here 
he became expert in, and devoted to, all water-sports. He 
learned to swim like a duck, to handle a boat, to find the 
best fishing-grounds, and to hunt the sea-fowl. Through all 
his life he preserved a passionate fondness for the sea, and 
for this coast in particular. Once he tried to buy one of 
the beautiful islands that lie off the Madison shore; and one 
of his last acts was to purchase, in company with his only 
surviving brother, a little sail-boat, in which he promised 
himself many a delightful renewal of acquaintance with the 
scenes of his boyhood. It lies idle on the sand, and he has 
gone alone on a darker sea over to a lovelier shore. To his 
early life in North Killingworth and in Madison may be 
traced that love and knowledge of the woods and of the sea 
which not only exercised afterward such an influence upon 
his recreations and health, but stored his mind with that 
wealth of imagery and illustration drawn from the forest 
and the ocean which appeared in all his writings, and lent 
them much of their charm. 

"My uncle had an old duck-gun of enormous size and 
weight, which I used to borrow. I never owned a gun of 
any kind till I had a home of my own. It was only lent to 
me on certain conditions — that I would first perform a cer- 
tain amount of work or study; but, these complied with, 
Saturday afternoon found me trudging down to the shore 
with this piece of ordnance on my shoulder. My cousin oft- 
en went with me, and sometimes Abel, the black servant, 
also ; and on rare occasions the latter deigned to relieve me 
of my burden for a part of the way ; but usually I had to 
stagger along with it unaided. But the happiest hours of 

4 



50 JOHN TODD. 

my life were those Saturday afternoons spent in skulking 
among the rocks along the shore with that old blunderbuss, 
and blazing away, seldom with any effect, at the ducks and 
sea-gulls." 

"At Madison they have a new meeting-house, and all 
things are altered there, save Tuxas Island and Gull Rock, 
where you and I, Uncle John, used to dig clams. When- 
ever I walk on those beautiful sand-bars, I think of you and 
of olden times, and of the years of my boyhood. I went out 
to Falkner's Island, and the Little Gull Islands near, and — 
would you think it? — I picked up and carried to my little 
boy the same kind of round white stones which my own 
dear father gathered and brought to me when I was of his 
age, at least thirty-three years ago. The stones looked like 
the very same, and, I presume, were gathered within a rod 
of the spot where he gathered mine. The old hive at Mad- 
ison looks more out of order and more neglected, otherwise 
it is about the same old shell that it always has been — the 
place of all others on earth associated with what moves me 
whenever I see it. The bushes up the lane are all great 
trees now, and have outgrown and forgotten me; and even 
'Canoe Swamp' is now quite a majestic wood, and the rab- 
bits have all left it. Poor fellows ! they recollect less of me 
than I do of them. I can hardly realize that I, who am now 
growing gray-headed with care and labor, am the same be- 
ing I was in those days when 'Parker's Hill School-house' 
was a world of wisdom, and Molly Hamilton a paragon of 
beauty ! What would I not give for one hour of that free, 
joyous, gushing feeling of boyhood ! How foolishly I write 
on ! Will you not oblige me by putting it down on your 
slate that as long as you live you will write once a quarter 
to ' Tim's youngest boy ?' 

" Dearest of all Jonathans ! I have been in Madison to 
see about mother. The school -pond is filled up, and new 
houses are built, and nothing looks natural except Uncle 
Todd's old house, the old elm-tree, the old school-house, and 
Mr. Ely's house. Tuxas Island and Gull Rock stand just 
where they did, and so do Round Rock and Reuben's Rocks, 
but they seem more lonely and desolate than when we were 
boys and used to stand on them. I went to Blackboys, and 
thought how I first went there with you, a long, long time 



HIS CHILDHOOD. 51 

ago. Do you recollect it ? and the great fish which you 
caught ? When shall it be again ?" 

" Old Killingworth, too, has lost its old name, my dear 
brother William, and they now call it Clinton. It is a poor- 
looking place, in every sense of the word. Last August I 
went there, and what do you think I did ? I went to see 
the old house in which our father died. It is just as it was 
then, except that they have papered the room in which he 
died. It has had no other repairs or alterations. The gar- 
den was the same, and every thing the same, and I could 
stand in the entry and recall it all. Before going over it, I 
told John Morgan just how every room was situated, and 
where, greatly to his astonishment. I carried off some onions 
that grew in the garden which father used to till with so 
much delight ; and was about ready to knock Morgan down 
when I saw the stones with which father used to grind his 
medicines used as step-stones. Ten thousand old childish 
memories came rushing back to my mind during the visit, 
which had long since passed away. Our family have had a 
checkered life, and * a hard row to hoe,' but we have had 
far more than we deserve. God has granted us great 
mercies in that none of us have been left to be drunkards, 
or dishonest, or openly wicked. He has done great things 
for us, and for this we should be grateful. I want you 
should be contented, simple-hearted, prayerful, indifferent 
about property, and devoted to God." 

Three characters seem to have made special impression 
upon him in his life at Madison. 

"There they stand, before the eye of my mind, the great- 
est men I ever saw. I was a boy then, and men and trees 
were tall, and rivers were wide, and hills were high, and 
every thing was on a great scale. But the three great men 
were, the minister, something superhuman ; the doctor, who 
carried life and death in his saddle-bags; and the militia 
captain, who could raise armies and conquer legions. Let 
me describe them. The minister (Rev. John Elliot, D.D., 
pastor at East Guilford at the time) was a tall, very thin 
and slim man. His legs, always dressed in black stockings 
and small clothes, seemed too slender to hold him up. How 
neatly he was always dressed — not a spot or wrinkle on his 
garments ! What a broad-brimmed hat he wore — renewed 



52 JOHN TODD. 

just once in two years ! His manners and bearing were 
most gentlemanly. He was a fine scholar, a genuine lover 
of study, a capital preacher, a wise and most shrewd man, 
never trying to be rich or known, but well known, and all 
his life long he received the enormous salary of four hundred 
dollars a year. He was the life and soul of the village li- 
brary, and ready for every good work. How we boys and 
girls were wont to look upon him with awe and reverence, 
unable to believe that the common frailties of human nature 
hung about him ! I never dared enter his front door till I 
had been a member of college a year or two. I have never 
since met the minister who, to me, was so great. 

"The second great man was the doctor (his own uncle, 
Doctor Jonathan Todd). What a wonder was he ! A 
short, heavy, lymphatic man, whose hair was almost milk- 
white. He was careless about his dress, for it had to be ex- 
posed to all sorts of weather. He always rode horseback, 
with saddle-bags, and we children always supposed those 
bags contained what the Chinese doctors now use — scorpions, 
lizards, toads, serpents, and the like. He never spared him- 
self when his aid was needed, and his charges were one 
shilling (seventeen cents) each visit, and were the subject of 
far more murmurings than the charges of physicians at this 
day. I can see him now, on his bay horse with a white 
streak in his face extending from the nose up to the fore- 
head. We used to watch him as we would watch an angel 
of life or death, to see at whose house he was to alight. He 
was most careful as a nurse, and though he bled, purged, 
and gave medicines that would now be thought fearful in 
quantity, yet he was a good physician. He was a peace- 
maker, and, though a justice of the peace, he always settled 
the quarrel, if possible, without trying it. He was always 
in demand as moderator of the town meeting, was frequently 
sent to the Legislature; a kind of father to the whole com- 
munity, against whom no man ever bore a grudge or ill- 
will. DidnH he have the tooth-pullers, and the pills, and the 
emetics, and the lancets, all in those saddle-bags ! His face 
was mild and benevolent, but there were life and death in 
those saddle-bags. I have never seen so great a doctor 
since, though he did charge a shilling a visit, and seldom 
collected even that. 



HIS CHILDHOOD. 53 

"My third great man was the captain. Was there ever 
such an officer as Captain Judd ! He was tall, straight as 
an arrow, and had a noble figure. When he came forth on 
'training-day,' with an old Continental uniform (the most 
imposing, I still think, that I ever saw), his blue coat, buff 
vest, and buff leather small-clothes, and white-top boots, and 
high triangular hat with its lofty plume, his red sash around 
his loins, and his neat sword, and white gloves, who would 
not stand in awe ! He was not the same man whom, the day 
before, we saw bending over the anvil or shoeing the horse 
in his blacksmith shop. He was something now to be feared. 
We had no doubt but that with his company, w^hich he 
marched, and countermarched, and wheeled, and manoeuvred 
all day, he could have conquered any army that ever ex- 
isted. What a military head ! what an eye ! what a voice ! 
and what an ear to hear if a gun were shot off a second 
or two before word of command ! I once heard him tell 
his company he ' would not have had that gun go off so for 
five dollars.' The assertion seemed incredible to me when 
I heard it. Ah me ! I have seen some great men since, but 
never any so great as these three. Oh, the eyes of child- 
hood !" 

When he had lived with his uncle about a year and a 
half, Mr. Evarts came on from Charlestown, Massachusetts, 
to which place he had moved, to undertake the editorship 
of a publication called the Panoplist, to attend commence- 
ment at New Haven. While in the vicinity, he went out to 
East Guilford, to visit his relatives. Here he met again the 
boy who had spent a winter in his family. On his kindly 
inquiring of his welfare the boy replied, " I had hoped, sir, 
that you would want me again in your family." This led 
to farther inquiries, and eventually to a generous offer from 
Mr. Evarts of a home in his family, with a view to his attend- 
ing a better school than could be found in Guilford. The 
offer was accepted, and all through the summer and fall 
John anticipated, and made such slight preparations as he 
could for, his departure. As the time drew near, some one 
asked him if he had money enough for his journey. He re- 
plied that he had. And it was not till he was questioned 
a second time, and more closely, that he confessed that he 
had but seventy-five cents. However, no one gave him any 



54 JOHN TODD. 

more; and so, on the 21st of November, 1815, with a small 
bundle of clothes under one arm and seventy-five cents in 
his pocket, he left forever — not his home, for he had had 
none, but every thing that had been home-like, and started 
out into the world alone. "I believe my uncle parted with 
me with some regret; and I know I shed many tears on 
leaving this home, and father's house, of all our orphan 
family?" 



LIFE AT CHARLESTOWN. 55 



CHAPTER IV. 

LIFE AT CHAKLESTOWN. 

A weary Tramp. — Homesick. — The Errand-boy. — Hard Work. — At School. 
— A queer Costume. — Spectacles. — Religious Influences. — Dr. Morse. — A 
sandy Foundation. — Convictions. — An everlasting Covenant. — To do 
Good. — The Sunday-school. — Determination to go to College. — The Walk 
hack.— Examination.— The Cedar- bush.— The Bond. 

How in the world, with the means that he had, John ever 
accomplished that journey from Guilford to Boston we can 
never know. It was on Monday morning at about eight 
o'clock that he started off, " with a stiff hickory cane in one 
hand, and a small bundle in the other. In his checkered 
handkerchief were all his worldly goods, consisting of a Tes- 
tament, a few shirts, with a black ribbon in the collar of each, 
and a small number of unimportant articles of dress." At 
eight o'clock that evening he arrived at New London, hav- 
ing walked about thirty-five miles. Twice had he missed 
the way ; for, finding that whenever he made inquiries peo- 
ple suspected and accused him of being a runaway, he had 
made up his mind to ask no more questions, but to find his 
way as well as he could by the guide-posts. 

At New London he found a former acquaintance, a man 
who had some years before taught a free school which the 
boy had attended. The school-master was now a tavern- 
keeper and proprietor of a corner grocery, and was at first 
not disposed to remember his former pupil. But his good- 
nature soon prevailed, and he received the young traveler 
into his house ; who seems to have been struck with a de- 
plorable change in the moral and religious character of his 
host — a change as great as, and possibly occasioned by, the 
change in his business. 

Of his experiences between New London and Boston he 
never said any thing, and he has left no record. They were, 
perhaps, too unimportant, or perhaps too painful to be dwelt 
upon. Tradition has it that at night he slept by the road- 



56 JOHX TODD. 

side, protected by a fence or a cedar bush only from the 
November frosts. But on Saturday morning he arrived safe- 
ly at Charlestown, and was welcomed kindly to his place in 
the family of Mr. Evarts. But no welcome, however kind, 
could quite reconcile the boy to the change. " For the first 
three or four weeks I would have given any thing to have 
been at — I do not say home, for I had none, but Connecticut. 
Never was I so homesick, as it is called ; and I am convinced 
that not many diseases are more painful." 

The position which he occupied in Mr. Evarts's family was, 
naturally, in part menial. He was expected to saw the wood 
and draw the water, run of errands, and render what assist- 
ance he could in the family out of school-hours. There was 
also residing in the family, and in some way related to it, a 
lady of abundant means and many whims, who persisted in 
sending the boy all over the city on errands suggested by 
her fancies — a servitude which one eye-witness thinks he 
could not have endured, and did try the boy's patience se- 
verely. Occasionally he was able to earn a little extra with 
his wood-saw ; and this he invariably devoted to procuring 
school-books, "never going higher than a street book-stall 
for his purchases." So few helping hands were stretched 
out to him, that the gift of two or three old Latin books 
from Samuel J. Armstrong, at that time a book-seller, after- 
ward governor, was recorded with touching expressions of 
gratitude. After a time he was able to write and do office- 
work for Mr. Evarts, who was then treasurer of the American 
Board, as well as editor of the Panoplist, and was connected 
with various societies, and had much for a boy to do. On 
one occasion he writes: "I have now begun to do up, direct, 
and send off upward of four hundred pamphlets, which will 
occupy me some time. They are to be sent to societies, etc. 
I am to receive several of them as a kind of present for my 
trouble. They could not hire it done for five dollars, at the 
common price of things. I shall send those that I receive 
to my friends, and hope they will not be unwilling to pay 
the postage of them. I am certain they would not, if they 
knew how hard I labored for them." When it is considered 
that the pamphlet was entitled "The Conversion of the 
World," and that the day of cheap postage was far distant, 
it will not, perhaps, be thought that his pay was excessive, 



LIFE AT CHARIEST OWN. 5% 

or his apprehensions respecting the appreciation of his friends 
unfounded. 

Two years after entering Mr. Evarts's family he wrote : 

"Boston, Thanksgiving-day, December 4th, 1817. 
" My dear Brother William, — I will give you an imper- 
fect sketch how I spend my time. I rise at six in the morn- 
ing, make fires, etc. ; saw wood till eight o'clock (in which 
time I can saw enough to last three tires during the twenty- 
four hours) ; breakfast ; get to school at half-past eight ; re- 
cite a Greek lesson at nine o'clock; a Latin lesson at half- 
past ten ; at eleven the school is dismissed ; get home at 
half-past eleven; go of errands, etc., till one; dine at half- 
past one ; get to school at two ; recite a Latin lesson at half- 
past two; a grammar lesson at three; another Latin lesson 
at four ; school dismissed at half-past four ; return home ; 
drink tea; write for Mr. Evarts till nine; attend family 
prayers at half-past nine ; get my Greek lesson for the next 
morning ; retire to bed at eleven. I do not think I spend half 
an hour a week in idleness. I allow myself but seven hours 
out of the twenty-four for sleep, and I should not so much, if 
I did not think it absolutely necessary. I have made con- 
siderable progress in the Latin language, and can read it 
with facility. I have read but a little more than five chapters 
in my Greek Testament. I forgot to mention above that I 
have to read in English twice a day, and speak a piece once 
a week. Mr. Haskell, my instructor, thinks I have made very 
great improvement since I have been to him (which is about 
three weeks), and that if I can continue my studies I can be 
fitted for college by next fall. You mention that you think 
it probable that you may take to farming. If I can not get 
along in my studies, and can have no provision for my sup- 
port (as, I now see no way in which I can), I shall go into 
the new country, and might, perhaps call on you ; if so, and 
you are then working on a farm, perhaps I might go to work 
with you. I have received a letter from Uncle Jonathan 
Todd, in which he complains that he is growing old and 
feeble ; would help me if he could, but says that his burden 
is very great. I think so too. He certainly has done very 
much for our dear mother, and has by this means created a 
debt that I shall never think myself able to repay." 



58 JOHN TODD. 

Mr. Evarts had at this time just removed from Charles- 
town to Boston, and was living on Pinckney Street. For 
about five months previous, John had been taking private 
lessons of a Doctor Oliver S, Taylor, who still survives, to 
write with a trembling hand: " The studies were chiefly in 
Virgil, the Greek grammar, and the Greek Testament. His 
lessons were thoroughly studied and well recited. Among 
all the thousands whom Providence has thrown in my way, 
or has placed under my tuition, very few have been so care- 
ful, so inquisitive, and so thorough as he was." On the re- 
moval of the family to Boston, he went to the private school 
of Mr. Ezra Haskell, referred to in the above letter. One 
of his school-mates writes: "This school was held in the 
basement of the old Chauncey Place Church. There were 
perhaps forty-five or more boys and girls, from fourteen to 
seventeen years of age; also three others, of whom John 
was one, who attended only to the languages preparatory 
to entering college. The boys were there at eight o'clock, 
and left at eleven. The girls went to school at ten o'clock, 
and left at two. So that they were together only one hour 
each day. The common branches were attended to first by 
the younger members, and were dismissed in season to give 
undivided attention to the Latin class. Their three desks 
were placed together on one side of the room, so that they 
faced the wall; and opposite to them four of us girls also 
faced the wall. So that what I learned of him was from the 
back of his head ! You smile ; but it is true, and I learned 
much ; for his was a character to be studied, and I had 
nothing else to do, as I prepared all my lessons thoroughly 
at home. How did he look? In his personal appearance 
he was sui generis. Tall, of a stooping posture, grave coun- 
tenance, and knit brows, he seemed to live in the realm of 
thought. His dress was unique; a brown corded- velvet 
coat, and stockinet pants, and a blue and white cravat tied 
with a single bow-knot, his hair brushed to his own fancy, 
and all the most distant from the fashion. His grandfather 
wore the suit in the Revolution. He was dignified without 
superciliousness ; and he never put on airs. He was an in- 
defatigable student. He was persistent and independent. 
He knew that his dress excited the mirth of us all, and that 
no other like it could be found in Boston ; nevertheless, he 



LIFE AT CH ABLEST OWN. 59 

moved straight on, minding his own business. He would 
have been known anywhere as 'the scholar,' yet was with- 
out the appearance of moroseness. He was genial, with a 
vein of humor. With a battalion of bright faces and auda- 
cious smiles, we girls thought to bring down the citadel 
from its high estate; but all the notice we received was a 
twinkle of roguery above his spectacles, which said, 'I could 
be merry if I would.' He was remarkably kind-hearted. 
He never hesitated to take his own mind from his books to 
nelp my brother; and the loving lean, and the pointing to 
the sentence with his finger as he explained it, I can well 
remember." It was thus that, with invincible courage and 
perseverance, he pursued his studies, entirely uncertain 
whether he would ever be able to carry out his long-cherish- 
ed project of entering college. So close was his application 
that, as appears in the above letter, his eye -sight was al- 
ready seriously affected. It was on an excursion into the 
country that he first discovered that he could not distin- 
guish distant objects as he once could. It was not till long 
afterward that, being in a jeweler's shop, and, for the fun of 
it, trying on a pair of spectacles, he accidentally discovered 
the extent of his misfortune, and the means of remedying it. 
Always after this he wore spectacles ; yet to the end of his 
life he was in the habit of removing them when reading or 
writing at his desk. 

But it was in the year before this, while he was residing 
in Charlestown, that the greatest event of his life occurred. 

From his very infancy he had been subject to religious in- 
fluences. One of his earliest recollections was that of the 
family worship. His father's dying charge to him, to make 
God his father and friend, was fixed in his memory by pecul- 
iarly painful circumstances. On his father's grave his pas- 
tor, the venerable Doctor Mansfield, tenderly directed him to 
the God of the orphan, and he made* resolutions which were 
never forgotten. In her humble home at Killingworth, his 
Aunt Hamilton trained him carefully in genuine Puritan 
habits, and exerted upon him the influence of a Christian 
mother, and not without effect. There is a tradition that he 
was one day accompanying some boys to their home, when, 
at the foot of the hill, they left the road, and turned into a 
field of rye. He instantly stopped, and asked, "You are not 



60 JOHN TODD. 

going through that rye?" " Yes, this is the way we always 
go." "I am not going through that rye." "Why not?" 
"Because the rye will be trampled down and injured." 
And he turned back and went round, and they went with 
him. The incident illustrates not only his strength of char- 
acter, but the conscientiousness to which he had been care- 
fully trained. At his uncle's in East Guilford he was in a 
Christian family, and came under the influence of Doctor El- 
liot, of whom he wrote, on hearing of his death, " He was one 
of the best of men and of ministers. I most sincerely regret 
now that I had not gone to Guilford during last vacation, 
and seen him once more, for I loved him very much. Oh 
that I could so live as to be deeply and extensively lamented 
when I leave this world ! Nothing could be more unexpect- 
ed or sudden to me than this news of his death, and seldom 
has intelligence affected me so deeply." At Charlestown 
he became an inmate of the family of a remarkably eminent 
Christian: "Mr. Evarts was a holy man." Here, also, he 
came under the influence of Doctor Morse, and he was now 
of an age when a pastor's influence begins to be sensibly felt. 
"I was often at his house on errands; and as I sat under 
his ministry for several years, and as I first made a pro- 
fession of religion under him, I had a good opportunity to 
know him well. On the canvas of the memory his form 
stands out before me, tall, slight, graceful, and a little stoop- 
ing, as he rises in the pulpit on the Sabbath morning. His 
countenance is uncommonly mild and benignant, his face 
rather long, pale and care-worn, his forehead high and fair. 
His hair is thin, white, silky, dressed with great care, and, I 
think neatly powdered. His eye runs over the congregation 
quick, and, though mild and gentle, I presume it instantly 
takes in every full pew, and every vacant pew, and every 
stranger, in his large church edifice. It is an eye that unites 
the gentle, the bright, and the quick to an uncommon de- 
gree. His voice is soft, mild, musical, though on too high a 
key, and not of great compass. Perhaps it comes too near 
to the term chanting; not that it is unpleasant, but that it 
lacks depth, compass, and power. In delivering the sermon, 
which he always writes out in full, and which lies before 
him in its black morocco case, he seems to aim to win, draw, 
and persuade, rather than to overwhelm with argument, or 



LIFE AT CHARLESTOWK 61 

drive by the awfulness of manner or matter. Though all 
my remembrances of his preaching are only pleasurable, yet 
I can not now recall striking things, peculiar things, or odd 
things, that he says in the pulpit. He never cultivates 
prongs. He has the appearance of a venerable and most af- 
fectionate father addressing his children, rather than a re- 
prover rebuking evil-doers, or a judge reading from his 
scroll the condemnation of the guilty. He loves rather to 
pluck the roses that grow on Mount Zion, than to handle 
the thorns which cluster around Sinai. I can recall no one 
thing which I ever heard him say in the pulpit, which left 
an unpleasant impression, nor can I recall many that pricked 
like goads, and left their impression upon the conscience, 
like a nail fixed in a sure place. His mild, beaming face and 
melodious voice do much to cover up asperities, should there 
be any. I remember him as he stood at the weekly meet- 
ings in the chapel in his garden, his tender intercourse with 
young converts, and as he stood at the communion-table, 
and with the affection of John, the beloved disciple, brake 
bread to his flock. Those who agreed with him in doctrinal 
belief loved and revered him as a father. In his dress, per- 
sonal appearance, and manners, Doctor Morse still stands be- 
fore the eye as a gentleman of the old school. He wears 
the long coat and full vest of the day, small-clothes with 
buckles at the knees, black silk stockings, and nicely polished 
shoes. His neckcloth is of snowy whiteness, and his gloves 
black silk, with the tips of the fingers cut off. When he 
walks the street with his gold -headed cane, his tall and 
graceful form and his whole appearance point him out to 
a stranger as a gentleman in all his habits. His manners 
are highly polished, and he has uncommon conversational 
powers. Mrs. Morse, too, was a noble specimen of a woman. 
She was the first woman that ever gave me the full impres- 
sion of what a wife and mother can be. An orphan myself, 
and never having known a home, many a time have I gone 
away from Doctor Morse's house in tears, feeling that such 
a home must be more like heaven than any thing of which 
I could conceive." 

Such were the religious teachers and associations that 
influenced the boy from his infancy. It is not surprising, 
therefore, that he became a conscientious, sober-minded boy, 



62 J-OHN TODD. 

correct in behavior, and having many deep impressions. 
Still he knew nothing, as yet, of religion by experience ; and, 
so far from being consecrated to God, he was full of plans of 
worldly ambition. 

"In the spring of 1816, a Mr. S — —came to Mr. Evarts's, 
and boarded for a few weeks. He was the first who ever 
endeavored to arrest my attention to my everlasting con- 
cerns. One afternoon, he and myself being alone, he asked 
me if ever I had a special calling from God. I answered, 
* No.' He then inquired if I should fear death, and if I 
thought I should go to heaven if I were to die immediately. 
I answered that were I to die immediately, I thought God 
would not cast me off, for I had never done any thing of 
any consequence against him, and therefore I considered my 
claim upon heaven to be as good as that of any one. Mr. 

S told me he thought I was building upon a sandy 

foundation, and, after giving me a few hints of advice, drop- 
ped the conversation. I felt a pang after this, such as I 
had never before felt. I thought much that night upon 
what I had said in regard to death, and considered it an 
awful challenge to the Almighty. The next morning was 
still worse. I felt such a load of guilt lying upon me as 
seemed nearly to crush me to the ground. I was with Mr. 
Evarts alone in the forenoon ; and although I had to with- 
draw to another part of the room and wipe my eyes, yet I 
dared not open my mind to him. Soon he withdrew for 
about half an hour. Oh, the anguish that then surrounded 
my soul ! It seemed as if hell itself had risen up to con- 
demn me, and yawned to swallow me. My distress was so 
great that I expected every moment to drop into hell. The 
room suddenly became dark to me, my senses were con- 
fused, and I sunk down into a chair, almost distracted. 
How long I continued in this state I do not know, but it 
seemed a full day, so great was my distress. Almost the 
first thing that I took any notice of was Mr. S , who en- 
tered the room. I was involuntarily weeping very freely, 
for I did not know what nor where I was. He addressed 
me very kindly, little suspecting the real cause of my weep- 
ing, and asked if I was sick. I at last made him understand 
what was the matter with me. It seemed as if I would 
have given any thing to have had Mr. Evarts return soon- 



LIFE AT GHARLESTOWN. 63 

er, that I might have opened my mind freely to him, and 
reproached myself because I had not before done it. He, 
however, came in after Mr. S had been there some mo- 
ments. I derived no comfort for several days, but would 
have given worlds, could that have been done, for a ransom 
for my soul. I read Baxter's ' Saints' Rest,' and thought 
the rest of saints indeed glorious, but that I never should 
enjoy it. I tried to pray, but considered that it was useless 
for me to pray, for God would never hear me ; and there- 
fore I gave it up, and calculated to go to hell. I did not 
feel now much alarmed at the thought of being a companion 
of devils forever, for I hated God, and thought I should pre- 
fer devils to him. Strange as this hardness, wickedness of 
heart may seem, I gave over all thoughts of religion for two 
or three months, and gave myself up to wickedness. Mr. 
S had left Mr. Evarts's family soon after the conversa- 
tion referred to, and as I had never opened my mind to Mr. 
Evarts during my distress, I had no one to check me. 

"In the following September, Mr. and Mrs. Evarts went 
to Connecticut. While they were gone, a revival of relig- 
ion commenced in Charlestown. I attended meeting every 
evening, and trembled lest I had committed the unpardona- 
ble sin. I read Doddridge's 'Rise and Progress,' and trem- 
bled at every page. I could, however, at this time pray, 
and, I think too, in spirit. I now considered against what a 
merciful God I had sinned, and these thoughts drew tears 
from my eyes, which, a little before, hell could not have 
done. I thought that if I were cast out, I would go from 
the foot of the cross. I considered that it would be just in 
God to send me to hell forever. About this time I began 
to feel compassion for the salvation of others. I then be- 
gan to consider if there was any way in which I might be 
prepared to do good to my fellow-men, and communicated 
this to Mr. Brown, a gentleman to whom I was then going 
to school. He encouraged me, and from that time I have 
had a very great desire to be an embassador of Christ. 
On the 13th of April, 1817, 1 gave myself up to God in an 
everlasting covenant. I wrote a covenant in the presence 
of God and angels alone, signed and sealed it, in which I 
gave myself entirely up to God. I have never opened it 
since, and I never aim to again in this world. I also that 



64 JOHN TODD. 

day made a public profession of religion, and joined myself 
with the church in Chariest own." 

In one of the last nights of his life, Doctor Todd remark- 
ed, "I hardly know what to say about my Christian hope. 
When I was about sixteen years of age, in Charlestown, I 
thought that I was converted, and I joined the church. But 
after a while my interest abated, and I fell into old w r ays. 
And then, when I was in college, there was a revival, and I 
was stirred up again. And then I grew indifferent again. 
And so it has been all along. I don't know — perhaps it is 
better to rest my hope upon the general aim and endeavor 
of my life, and upon the mercy of God, than upon those ear- 
ly experiences." 

It is perfectly natural that the mature Christian, looking 
back, should have a poor opinion of his imperfect beginnings 
of Christian life; but it can hardly be doubted that in this 
Charlestown experience he passed through a great moral 
change. From this period dates a "desire to do good," 
which was one of the deepest and most variedly expressed 
and manifested of his feelings all his life long. "To do 
good" was his great ambition. 

One of his first efforts in this direction was made under 
the guidance of Doctor Morse. " I well remember attending 
the first meeting ever held in that region to organize a Sab- 
bath-school. Doctor Morse was the mover in it, and I was 
a teacher in it from its very opening." The only other male 
teachers were the two sons of Doctor Morse — Sidney E., aft- 
erward editor of the New York Observer, and Samuel F., or 
Finley, as he w T as called, subsequently the inventor of the 
electric telegraph — with both of whom he was intimate. This 
was one of the first Sunday-schools in the country; and here 
he acquired the interest in the Sunday-school work which 
distinguished him all his life. It w r as, perhaps, his connection 
with Mr. Evarts, and consequent familiar acquaintance with 
the operations of the American Board, which led him to 
form the resolution to become a missionary. The purpose 
was after many years reluctantly relinquished, but his in- 
terest in the foreign missionary work never abated. From 
this period his letters indicate that he has passed through 
a change. He does not wait for a missionary appointment, 
or ministerial license, to speak to others of that which he 



LIFE AT CHARLESTOWK 65 

has found most precious. Hardly a letter to one of his 
brothers or sisters closes without a word of affectionate ad- 
monition: "I do entreat you, my dear sister, to strive to 
gain the one thing needful ;" " I hope you will not be care- 
less and indifferent as to your own situation, while in other 
places they are coming from all quarters to the Fountain to 
be cleansed ;" " I long to hear that my dear brother and sis- 
ter have made their 'calling and election sure.'" 

But the most immediate and marked evidence of a change 
was, that " the desire for cultivating, enlarging, and disci- 
plining the mind, and making it an instrument of useful- 
ness, was every day growing stronger and stronger. It was 
all I had with which to do good. The desire to go to col- 
lege was now rekindled with inextinguishable ardor. But 
what difficulties were in the way ! 1 was without friends, 
among strangers, and entirely destitute of property, with not 
a single voice to encourage. Without a single exception, 
every individual with whom I conversed endeavored to dis- 
courage me. One thought it a bold undertaking which could" 
never be carried through. Another, that I had not talents 
sufficient to become a scholar. A third, that I might make 
a good business man, and it was a great pity to spoil me for 
business." 

His teacher, Mr. Haskell, who kindly gave him half of his 
tuition, had some talks with the boy about his future pros- 
pects, and gave him the discouraging advice to wait several 
years before attempting to enter college, rather than accept 
of assistance. "Indeed, I believe I shall be compelled of 
necessity to follow his advice. I sometimes wish I had left 
my present place of abode two months ago, when I had two 
excellent offers of doing so ; yet, as Mr. Evarts is absent, it 
was thought I could not leave the trust that he committed 
to me till his return." 

A little while after this, Mr. Evarts sent him an introduc- 
tion to the Education Society, and he wrote, " I have some 
hopes of entering college the next fall, if the Education So- 
ciety assists me, whether Yale or Middlebury I can not tell 
till Mr. Evarts returns. If God permits me to receive an 
education, I hope I shall serve him faithfully even unto 
death. I have made up my mind that if he spares my life 
I will be a missionary." 

5 



66 JOHN TODD. 

The fall of 1818 saw him return from Charlestown to Con- 
necticut in the same courageous spirit, and by the same mode 
of travel in which he had gone from his uncle's three years 
before — afoot, with his entire wardrobe under one arm, and 
his entire library under the other. 

"It was afternoon when I reached New Haven, and I went 
directly to the President's room. There I found President 
Day, and with him Professor Kingsley, and they proceeded 
to examine me without delay. They found that I was total- 
ly unfit to enter college, but, on becoming acquainted with 
the circumstances of the case, they agreed to admit me, with 
the understanding that I was to apply myself to my studies 
with special exertion. It was late in the afternoon wheu I 
left the room. I was tired with a long morning's march, 
and the excitement of the examination. I had had no din- 
ner, and had but three cents in the world. Two of these 
were spent in paying toll at Tomlinson's Bridge, and with 
my last copper I walked till dark toward Guilford. When 
I could no longer see my way, I lay down under a cedar- 
bush and slept. Very early in the morning I woke, stiff, 
sore, and almost frozen. I reached my uncle's in the course 
of the morning. The college then required, as it does now, 
a bond from some responsible person that the student's col- 
lege bills shall be paid. I found that my uncle was unwill- 
ing to sign such a bond, as he feared, not unreasonably, that 
he would have to pay my bills for me. In great discourage- 
ment I walked over to Killing worth, and told my brother 
Jonathan of my trouble. Now Jonathan was not worth one 
cent more than I was; but he was a noble fellow, and had a 
great heart, and as soon as he heard my story he exclaimed, 
' Give me the bond ; I'll sign it.' And so he did. I never 
intended any deceit, but it has since occurred to me that 
probably my brother's signature was mistaken for that of 
the well-known Guilford physician, the names being the same. 
At all events, the bond was accepted, and at last I was a 
freshman in Yale College." 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 67 



CHAPTER V. 

LIFE AT COLLEGE. 

The young Freshman.— A smart Class. — The first School.— Wet Stockings. 
— A Terror to Evil-doers. — A borrowed Hatchet. — The Sunday-school. — 
Little Lewis. — "Cast thy Bread upon the Waters." — A great Revival. — 111 
Health.— Correspondence with Doctor Lee. — Farewell to Hotchkisstown. 

The young freshman had undertaken a difficult task, and 
one which his friends thought he could never accomplish. 
To sustain himself in Yale College without means or assist- 
ance, or even encouragement, and with so poor a prepara- 
tion as his, he needed a good deal of pluck. How much 
ambition and determination and energy he must have had, 
and what exertion he must have made, appear from the 
fact that he not only sustained himself in the face of such 
difficulties, but rose to a place of honor in a class of seventy- 
seven, among whom were many young men who have since 
proved themselves to have possessed distinguished ability. 
The class contained, among others of well-known eminence, 
Doctor Edward Beecher, its valedictorian ; Rev. Walter Col- 
ton, the eccentric but brilliant chaplain and author; Rev. 
John Maltby, long a pastor at Bangor; Rev. Jared B. Water- 
bury, D.D., once pastor of Bowdoin Street Church, Boston, a 
great friend of John Todd's in college, and his "other self;" 
Rev. Thomas T. Waterman, D.D. ; Rev. Horatio N. Brins- 
made, D.D. ; Isaac Townsend ; Doctor Benjamin B. Coit, one 
of the most skillful of physicians; Harvey P. Peet, LL.D., 
the eminent instructor of deaf-mutes; and Hon. John A. 
Rockwell, a lawyer of national reputation. 

In this crowd of then unknown young men, the poor stu- 
dent was merged, and at once lost to sight. He had a room 
in one of the college buildings like the rest, took his meals 
at the college commons like the rest, and studied and re- 
cited like the rest. But, unlike the rest, he had not a cent 
of money, or so much as the good word of a friend; and 
therefore it was inevitable that he should before Ions: come 



68 JOHN TODD. 

to the surface, and distinguish himself from the others by 
efforts for self-preservation. 

During his first winter in college he taught a school at 
Hotchkisstown, or Westville, as it is now called, about two 
miles and a half from college, walking back and forth every 
morning and evening, in all kinds of weather and states of 
the road, and keeping up with his class at the same time. 
An eye-witness testifies that often, after his long walk 
through the melting snow, he sat down on the college steps, 
and, taking off his shoes, wrung the water out of his stock- 
ings before going in to make a brilliant recitation. In the 
effort to keep up with his class while thus employed, he se- 
riously injured his eyes with night study of Greek. 

"The next summer I took a school of wild boys in 

Street, and never missed a recitation all summer." In this 
school he obtained the reputation of being a severe disciplin- 
arian. It was the unanimous opinion of the scholars that 
he was " a terribly cruel man." One of them, a mere boy 
at the .time, writing under impressions which have not- been 
effaced in more than half a century, says : " I can see him 
now, walking up and down among the desks, with his hair 
erect, his lips compressed, his spectacles firmly fixed, mend- 
ing a pen, and casting quick, fierce glances around, with a 
large ruler under his arm, having carved on it, in great, 
easily legible characters, the warning, 'a terror to evil- 
doers.'" Such severity was so foreign to all his native 
disposition, and to all his subsequently manifested charac- 
ter, that there must have been some special reasons for it. 
It may be that, as a sophomore, he maintained his dignity 
a little unnecessarily. But it appears that it was a very 
bad school, which had proved too much for more than one 
previous teacher, and it was necessary to govern with an 
iron hand until the question of mastership was settled. It 
was not long in settling. One day one of the worst of the 
boys hurled an inkstand at the young teacher's head. The 
missile missed its aim and bespattered the wall, not with 
brains, but with ink; and the rebel, seeing justice coming 
with determination in its eye, and "a terror to evil-doers" 
in its hand, hastened to leap out of a window, and never 
returned. Discipline and order once established, the mas- 
ter relaxed somewhat, and very pleasant relations sprung 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 69 

up between hirn and the pupils. The late Hon. James F. 
Babcock, of New Haven, who has already just been quoted, 
writes of & dialogue in which he took part at the exhibition: 
" I remember that it was an Indian affair — that there was a 
murder of some sort — and I held the bowl to catch the ebb- 
ing life-blood." 

During the fall vacation he taught a school in the town 
of Orange, then a part of New Milford, where he found 
some kind friends, with whom afterward, when sick and in 
distress, he had at one time a thought of taking refuse. At 
the end of the first year he had gained in position in his 
class, and had earned a hundred and sixty dollars. 

In so busy and hard-working a life he found, of course, no 
time or inclination to join in the usual college frolics. In- 
deed, he was too much in earnest and too sober-minded to 
engage in them himself; but his humor qualified him to en- 
joy observing them, and he often told of them in after-years 
with great relish. His friend, poor Walter Colton, had not 
his steadiness, but was always getting into scrapes, from 
which his friends with difficulty extricated him. It was at 
that time the custom for the division which was to recite 
to enter the recitation-room before the instructor, and to re- 
main standing at their seats till he had entered and taken 
his place, and then to seat themselves simultaneously. One 
morning it was not noticed that the supports of the long 
benches had been cut away behind, leaving only just enough 
in front barely to hold them in position ; and of course when 
twenty men sat down at once on each bench, they all went 
over backward, and the legs of the whole division flew into 
the air with one accord. The authorities could not be ex- 
pected to pass over such an accident in silence, and, among 
the rest, Todd was called up, and asked if he knew who had 
cut those benches. Too conscientious to lie, and too honor- 
able to betray a friend, he replied that he had some reason 
to think that he could conjecture who the culprit was, but 
he thought that he had done it in frolic, and not in malice, 
and he did hope that inquiries would not be pushed to the 
disgrace and ruin of a fine young man for a bit of fun. Mar- 
velous to relate, the authorities had the grace not only to 
desist from questioning him farther, but also to take his ad- 
vice; and nothing more was said about it. The "reason" 



70 JOHN TODD. 

which Todd had "to conjecture who the culprit might be" 
was that Walter Colton had borrowed his hatchet to do the 
mischief with. 

But the young student-teacher was engaged in too seri- 
ous work to enter much into such sports. And, besides, his 
tastes led him to employ what little leisure he had differ- 
ently. Finding that there were no religious services or 
privileges at Hotchkisstown, he at once started a Sunday- 
school, after the pattern of the one which he had helped 
organize in Charlestovvn. "At first the project was greatly 
ridiculed, and many opposed. But ridicule and opposition 
soon gave way to a good cause, and in a short time I had 
seventy scholars. The room in which we met was an un- 
finished chamber of a poor, lame woman — the only place 
that was offered. The floor was not nailed down, and nei- 
ther ceiling nor plaster had ever been seen in the chamber. 
The chimney passed up in the centre, and the bare rafters 
were over our heads. Yet never did I see brighter or hap- 
pier faces than among the little groups which I regularly 
met. 

" One hot Sabbath I had walked out to meet my Sabbath- 
school. The children were expecting me to give them, at 
the close of the lessons, a history of the holy Sabbath, from 
its first appointment, and to tell them why God appointed 
it, and what are our duties in regard to it ; for so I had 
promised them, and I had in fact prepared myself to do it. 
But being weary and ill, I told them that for these reasons 
I would defer it till the next Sabbath. While thus putting 
it off, I noticed a bright little boy sitting near me who 
seemed to look disappointed. He had expected to hear 
about the holy Sabbath. Oh, had I remembered how Christ 
taught the poor woman of Samaria, though he was weary 
and faint, should I not have done differently ? 

"The next Sabbath came, and my school were again 
coming together. On arriving at the house, instead of 
finding them all quiet in their seats as usual, I found them 
standing around the door, some sobbing, others looking 
frightened, all silent. On inquiry, they told me that 'Lit- 
tle Lewis had just been killed by the mill.' This was all 
they knew about it. At the head of my little flock, I has- 
tened to the house where the little boy lived. For some 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 71 

weeks it had been very dry, and the streams had become 
low. But during the preceding day and night a heavy rain 
had fallen. A mill on a small stream near-by, which had 
stood still for some time for want of water, was set in mo- 
tion early on Sabbath morning. I need not ask if the mill- 
er feared God. About an hour before the Sabbath-school 
usually came together, little Lewis went down to the mill- 
stream to bathe. The poor boy had never seen his parents 
keep the Sabbath holy. He swam out into the stream. 
The current was strong, too strong for him ; he raised the 
cry of distress, the miller heard him and saw him, but was 
too much frightened to do any thing. The current swept 
along; the little boy struggled, again cried for help; the 
waters rushed on; he was sucked down under the gate; 
the great mill - wheel rolled around — crash ! — he was in 
a moment crushed and dead ! Scarcely had his last cry 
reached the ears of the miller before his mangled corpse 
came out from under the wheel. 

"I led my scholars into the room. They seemed to 
breathe only from the top of their lungs. I lifted up the 
white napkin, and — it was the same little boy who had 
looked so disappointed on the last Sabbath, because I omit- 
ted to talk about the Sabbath ! 

" I have never been able to look back upon that scene 
without keen anguish. And since I have been a minister, 
when I have felt weary and feeble, and tempted to put off' 
some duty to a more convenient season, I have recalled that 
scene to my mind." 

Among those who opposed the school was a gentleman, 
who for some weeks refused to permit his only child, a lit- 
tle girl of eight years, to attend it. " But as all her play- 
mates attended, and were delighted with the privilege, and 
as no bad consequences were seen, what by entreaties, and 
what by a kind request from her mother, it so happened 
that on the fifth Sabbath after the school was opened, little 
Clarissa was at school. She continued to attend regularly 
through the summer, and to improve very rapidly. It was 
at the close of a pleasant Sabbath in August, when the fa- 
ther called the child to him, and addressed her very mildly. 
' Clarissa, my love, are you not tired of going to that school ? 
I don't think you learn any thing — I mean any thing that 



72 JOHN TODD. 

you understand.' * Oh yes, father, I do — a great many 
things ; for to-day I asked my teacher about that beautiful 
text, "Cast thy bread upon the waters, and thou shalt find it 
after many days ;" and what, father, do you think it means?' 
'Why, child, it must mean that we ought to be charitable 
to the poor.' ' Yes, father, but do you know why it is like 
casting bread on the waters?' 'No, my love.' 'Well, my 
teacher explained it to me. He said that in the Eastern 
country rice and all kinds of grain are called bread, even 
before they are cooked. He said that every year the river 
Nile, and so of some other Eastern rivers, rose up high, and 
had its waters overflow its banks and all the country round. 
While the waters were thus covering the country, the peo- 
ple went out in their little boats and scattered their rice or 
bread on the waters. This was sowing it. It sunk down 
in the mud — the waters covered it. Yet the people knew it 
was not lost; for in due time the waters went off, and then 
the rice sprung up, and they usually had great crops. This 
is casting bread on the waters; and true charity is just like 
it. Isn't it a beautiful verse, father ?' 'Yes.' 'And don't I 
learn and understand what my teacher tells me?' 'You 
may go and tell it to your mother, my dear.' 

"Toward the close of the summer I was taken sick, and 
was obliged to leave the Sabbath- school and the college. 
As I was poor, the ladies of the neighborhood kindly made 
me up a small purse to bear my expenses. One evening 
little Clarissa came to her father with a very earnest look, 
and said, ' Father, will you please to give me a nine-pence ?' 
'What will you do with it, my dear?' 'Oh, I want it very 
much, and will not waste it, father.' 'But what do you 
want it for?' ' I wish, father, you would please to give it to 
me without asking — I do want it very much.' ' I can't give 
my daughter money, unless she tells me to what use she is 
to apply it.' 'Well, father, I fear you will not give it to 
me, but I will tell you. You know that Mr. Todd, my school- 
teacher, is sick, and must go away. Oh, he has been so 
kind to me ! He is going away, and I am afraid I shall 
never see him again. I wanted to give him the nine-pence : 
you remember how he explained to me that beautiful text, 
" Cast thy bread upon the waters." ' The little girl sobbed, 
and a tear stood in the eye of the father. He put a bank- 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 73 

note in the hand of his child for her sick teacher, and turned 
aside and wept. He thought how he had been taught a les- 
son of charity by his little child ; how he had opposed the 
very school where she had been thus instructed ; and how 
he had ever been supremely selfish and sinful. From that 
hour he became awakened, and was in great anxiety of mind 
for some time. He then found peace in believing." Thus the 
bread which the young teacher cast upon the waters in open- 
ing the school was found after many days; and he who reaped 
at once received wages and gathered fruit unto life eternal. 

At the beginning of the year he had joined the college 
church, by letter from the church in Charlestown ; and this 
relation was never sundered till his death. 

At just about this time there came to New Haven and 
the surrounding region a remarkable revival, one of a series 
of revivals which marked an era in the religious history of 
New England. "There was a wave of divine influence in 
those days sweeping through the land, the like of which, so 
far as I know, has not been witnessed since." 

"August 5th, 1820. 

"I am happy to state that there is considerable atten- 
tion to religion in New Haven. Meetings are frequent and 
crowded. Sinners are inquiring after Jesus. The voice is 
small, and very still, though not on this account the less 
powerful. Christians are awaking. With one or two ex- 
ceptions the work has not reached college, except as the 
brethren are much engaged. A general seriousness, how- 
ever, pervades college. We wish to be still, and pray the 
more. The church met lately, and many tears were shed 
over our backslidings. The Faculty feel the effects of re- 
ligion, and are engaged. Oh, sir, do you and your good 
people pray for our college." 

"August 15 th. 

"Dear C , — You have probably heard of there being 

considerable attention to religion in this place. I can not 
now give you particulars. I have many times seen a large 
conference-room crowded with young people, all as solemn 
as the grave ; all, as it were, in an agony for their salvation. 
I hope to give you particulars hereafter. In the mean time, 
I hope you will not be careless and indifferent as to your 
own situation." 



74 JOHN TODD. 

" August 22d. 

"I would speak concerning the state of religion in this 
place, but I dare not : we stand in the most awful state of 
suspense ; a cloud seems ready to burst upon us, but Chris- 
tians will not pray with sufficient fervency to pierce it. 
Oh, pray for us ! pray for our college, pray for our college !" 

This revival was partly connected with the labors of 
the celebrated Doctor Asahel Nettleton, who visited and 
preached in New Haven at this time. 

"I recollect his preaching in the Centre Church, on Dives 
and Lazarus, when the pictures he painted were so vivid 
that a great, strong student in the class above me told me 
that he thought he actually saw the spirit of Dives in prayer 
for his live brethren ! That student rolled in agony on the 
bare floor of his room all night, and it resulted in his hope- 
ful conversion. The Great Day alone can reveal the results 
of the life of Nettleton." 

"In this great revival," writes one of his classmates, "he, 
as well as Doctor Brinsmade, Doctor Waterbury, and oth- 
ers of the class, used to labor abundantly. I recollect par- 
ticularly his often going to attend meetings in Hotchkiss- 
town. He was much engaged in labors to save souls, not 
only among the college students, but everywhere as he had 
opportunity. One conversation with me, or rather exhorta- 
tion directed to me, while I was rooming with him for a few 
weeks, and was under deep conviction of sin, I shall never 
forget. I can remember no personal address made to me in 
that momentous crisis in my history that more deeply im- 
pressed me, or did more to bring me to a definite decision 
to be fully on the Lord's side." 

But all this hard study, and teaching, and religious labor 
and excitement, accompanied with exposure to the weather, 
and improper and insufficient fare, and unrelieved by a mo- 
ment's vacation, at last began to tell even upon his iron con- 
stitution. A neglected cold resulted in a settled cough and 
symptoms of the gravest character. As early as February 
he had begun to complain of ill health, and said, "Of all the 
places to be sick at that I ever became acquainted with, 
college seems the worst ; and for these reasons I can have no 
care taken of my health, and it is with the utmost reluctance 
that I can think of leaving offmv studies." 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 75 

A little later he conceived the idea of taking a journey 
for the benefit of his health in the approaching fall vaca- 
tion, on foot, of course, as he could not command the means 
for any other mode of travel. He had at that time a sister 
whom he had never seen, living in the northern part of New 
York, a woman of remarkable character and attainments — 
altogether the most brilliant member of the family. It oc- 
curred, therefore, to this sick and enfeebled student to walk 
to this sister's and make her a visit, and return by way of 
his father's old home in Arlington, Vermont. Full of this 
idea, he opened, in June, a correspondence with Rev. Doctor 
Chauncey Lee, settled at that time in Colebrook,Connecticut. 
Doctor Lee had formerly been settled near Arlington, and 
had been an intimate friend of Doctor Timothy Todd. The 
first letter contained merely some inquiries respecting this 
friend and father, of whom the son knew but very little. 
In due time an answer was received, written in the kindest 
manner, giving to the son a detailed account of his father, 
of which much use has been made in this story. The second 
letter of the son betrays his real object in opening the cor- 
respondence; he asks for letters of introduction to any gen- 
tleman at or near Arlington on whom he had better call. 
"It is my wish to become acquainted with men and man- 
ners; and if there are any in Arlington who were acquainted 
with my father, perhaps they would not be unwilling to see 
his son." It is possible that the lonely and suffering and 
destitute student had a secret hope that his father's old 
friend would be sufficiently interested in him to put him in 
the way of getting some more substantial help than an in- 
troduction to "men and manners," or an invitation, at least, 
to stop at his house on the weary journey; but his letter 
contains no hint of it. In answer to Doctor Lee's fatherly 
inquiries, he briefly sketches his hard career, and then ex- 
plains the object of his journey. "A constant and violent 
pain in my breast admonishes me that it is time to do some- 
thing for it besides studying. I have been advised by the 
professors and tutors to take a journey during the coming 
vacation. I have, for these reasons, concluded to take a 
journey on foot, the next vacation, to Malone, New York, 
returning by way of the Connecticut River; hoping by 
means of this exercise to restore my health. Perhaps, sir, 



76 JOHN TODD. 

you may smile at my plan, especially when I inform you 
that I have no money to defray the expenses of the journey. 
I am aware of fatigues and difficulties, but to these I am 
accustomed. I traveled from Boston to this college with 
fifty cents; and though during this journey I slept once 
under a fine cedar-bush, yet I am as well off now as if I had 
traveled in a coach. I believe that walking will be as likely 
to restore my health as any other means, and it is the least 
expensive. I go to Malone because I have sisters there 
whom I wish to see. Though the flesh shrinks at the 
thought of traveling six or seven hundred miles, destitute 
and among strangers, yet the spirit is undaunted. I would 
endure any fatigues for my old constitution." 

While waiting for the reply to this letter, he writes to 
his sister as follows : 

"Dear Charlotte, — I should give the exact state of my 
health if I knew what to say. A constant pain in the breast 
admonishes me to do something besides studying. The 
president of the college, together with the professors and 
tutors, advise me to take a journey or a voyage the coming 
vacation. I had thoughts of visiting Vermont for the pur- 
pose of regaining my health, but I am not now able to walk 
so far; nor shall I be, at the close of the term, unless I am 
materially better. I would take a voyage, could I afford 
the expense. Something, however, I must do, though I have 
not yet determined what. I do not know whether I had 
better spend the vacation in Guilford or not. I shall not 
be able to do much. Perhaps I could be upon the water 
some, and work on the farm. I shall not return to college 
again, after leaving it this time, till better. I have not, how- 
ever, omitted a recitation this term, and have seldom been 
in bed before twelve o'clock. We rise at five in the morn- 
ing. Our studies at this time are exceedingly hard. I pre- 
sume Jonathan is married before this time, as I hear nothing 
from him. I am very much surprised that he has not written 
to me ; but as people do not generally get married more than 
three times during their lives, I very willingly excuse him." 

A day or two after this was written a very kind letter 
was received from Doctor Lee, protesting against his un- 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 11 

dertaking such a journey on foot in his state of health, in- 
viting and urging him to come directly to him, as to " a fa- 
ther's and mother's house," and assuring him that the in- 
terest awakened in Colebrook by his letters would secure 
him possibly a horse, certainly a purse. 
To this the grateful student replied : 

"Rev. and very dear Sie, — Your letter of the 13th in- 
stant is now lying before me. I should have answered it 
immediately, but feared lest the ardency of youth and high- 
wrought feelings might tempt me to use expressions more 
hyperbolical than my cooler moments would dictate. When 
your letter arrived, I was about giving up the idea of my 
contemplated journey ; but you revived my hopes, as a 
small shower from a benevolent hand revives the withered 
plant. Since I last wrote you my health has failed fast. A 
continual cough, united with my disorder of the breast, se- 
verely afflicts me; and the gloomy cloud, which at first was 
hardly noticed in my sky, has continually been blackening. 
Before I proceed farther, let me assure you, sir, that I feel 
my heart, as it were, crushed, by the kindness of a people 
who never knew me. Ah, sir ! were I able to pursue my 
first plan, and to have gone my journey solus in solo, my 
heart had never shrunk from fatigues and hardships; but 
when I see benevolence extending the charities that are sa- 
cred, my hand shrinks back, impelled by its own unworthi- 
ness. The feelings of a student are commonly sensitive ; 
of a charity student, tender; of a sick charity student, the 
most delicate. Judge, then, how I felt while reading your 
letter — a letter not dictated by selfishness, nor written with 
the pen of indifference ; but a letter written by a pen dipped 
in benevolence, and guided by the fingers of love. I shall 

accept of your kindness, nor will I attempt to thank you 

I took the liberty to show your letter to President Day; it 
affected him little less than it did me. He feels much more 
alarmed about me than I do about myself, and advises me 
to leave college immediately, or to put myself under the 

care of Doctor . I have done neither. I am hindered 

from the latter by the fear of expense; and from the former 
because I wish to stay till after the examination. I shall 
then, if health permit, leave college a fortnight from next 



78 JOHN TODD. 

Thursday night, and, if possible, be in Colebrook a fortnight 
from next Saturday. I know not that I shall be able to 
walk this distance in two days, especially as I shall have a 
great-coat and some few clothes to carry; but if not, I trust 
the Lord will provide for me. As to clothes for my journey, 
tell my dear mother Lee that I do not know that I shall 
need more than I have. The ladies in New Haven have 
been exceedingly kind to me. I shall wear a black suit 
which they gave me. This suit is much too good, but I 
have no other, and my next clothes must be made accord- 
ing to the plan adopted by the students in college 

I found three dollars inclosed from you. Oh, sir, when a 
minister gives to me, my heart aches. I fear you could not 
do this consistently with duty. It is the greatest present I 
ever received from an individual. I feel as though I was 
doing wrong to take it. Oh, it makes me feel little, it 
makes me feel ashamed, to live on the charity of others. 
I suppose I inherit too much of my father's independency 
of character, pride. Till I see you, thanks, tears, prayers. 
Adieu." 

This correspondence with Doctor Lee excited so much in- 
terest that it was at length published, in the absence, and 
without the knowledge, and very much to the annoyance, 
of the younger party to it. He attempted to suppress it, 
but in vain. It was reproduced in several editions. 

Before starting on his journey, he wrote to a lady in Hotch- 
kisstown, at whose house he had taken his meals while teach- 
ing there, and who had continued a faithful friend to him, 
often sending into his sick-room in college little delicacies 
and soothing draughts for his cough, and moving the ladies 
of her little village to interest themselves in his behalf. 

"Dear Madam,— I can not content myself to leave town 
without dropping you a line, as the only pledge I can give 
of my remembrance, esteem, and gratitude. I have lived 
among strangers, and I have acquired friends among stran- 
gers ; but never did I feel as I now do on separating, and 
never more deeply lament the necessity which drives me 

again among strangers Many a year has rolled away 

since the sun first beheld me as a forsaken orphan, but He 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 79 

who feedeth the fowls of heaven has ever given me benefac- 
tors and friends, and I trust He has also given me a heart 
susceptible of gratitude ; and if an orphan's prayers can 
ever reach the throne of Jehovah, these benefactors will not 

go unrewarded It is characteristic of some that they 

are willing to crouch and flatter at all times and at all 
places for the sake of a little temporal advantage, while 
others would rather die than receive any thing by way of a 
present. While I despise the meanness of the former, and 
pity the pride of the latter, I would take a middle course. 
And while I would never beg unless misfortune had thrown 
me into the most forlorn situation, neither would I reject the 
kindness of friends when performed with a proper spirit. 
With this stiff preface, I would take this opportunity to ac- 
knowledge from the good people of Hotchkisstown the sum 
of $8 90, together with a pair of boots, two cravats, and the 
making of shirts, besides other kindnesses In the suf- 
ferings of the body, I would earnestly request the petitions 
of those who can pray, that I may be prepared and resigned 
to the will of Heaven. If it be consistent, I could have 
wished to spend my life in the service of Him who spent 
His for us. I had hoped, when prepared, to have taken my 
life in my hand, and to have spent my days beneath an In- 
dian or an African sun. Such are the calculations of man, 
and how different are the designs of God ! Though bitter 
be the cup, though gloomy the disappointment, though mys- 
terious are the footsteps of Jehovah, yet I would pray for 
resignation, and put my trust in Him who is the Judge of 
all the earth, and who will do right. I can not close with- 
out adverting to a topic which, I trust, lies near my heart. 
While your people are extending the hand of charity and 
relieving the wants of others, I can not but feel anxious lest 
they forget themselves. It is now a time to obtain the 'one 
thing needful,' and I do hope they will not put off the sub- 
ject till it is forever too late, even till the door of hope is 
closed, and the voice of mercy is dumb forever. Accept, 
madam, my thanks for your personal kindness to me, as well 
as that of your family. I shall ever be under obligations to 
you. There are those whose unhappy lot it is to receive 
all their good things in this life, and I have lately trembled 
lest I shall be among this number. The privation of health 



80 JOHN TODD. 

is, indeed, a great affliction, but Providence often tempers 
our afflictions with mercy, and the sick-bed may often be 
soothed by the tender hand of charity ; and the footsteps of 
death, though appalling, may often be rendered less hideous 
by the kindnesses of friends. I return, then, the thanks that 
flow from an aching heart; receive a tribute of my grati- 
tude as the only reward I can ever make you Should 

I attempt to say all that I feel, should I tell of all the tears 
I have shed on being obliged to leave the endeared walls 
of college, my letter would be protracted to a patience- 
wearing length. Should we not be permitted to meet again 
in this life, I pray that we may meet in a world where pain 
shall be unknown, and be permitted to walk in the streets 
of eternal day." 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 81 



CHAPTER VI. 

LIFE AT COLLEGE — C0ntmU6(l 

A Thunderbolt.— An interesting Letter.— A Daniel come to Judgment.— At 
Colebrook. — A Tune with a harsh Name. — Impressions of a Stranger.— On 
Horseback.— Grand Isle. — A buoyant Spirit.— A family Meeting.— Malone. 
— Return to College. — Advised to Leave. — A Ride on the Ice. — Brig Wil- 
liam. — A kind Family. — Glimpses of Slavery. — A Saturday-evening Note. 
—Scandalous Books.— A Pilgrim Horse.— Health Restored.— Mr. Herrick's 
Pupil. — Staples's Academy. — The Osbornes. — Graduation. 

c ' Lyman Beecher was a thunderbolt. You never knew 
where it would strike, but you never saw him rise to speak 
without feeling that so much electricity must strike. I 
have his memoir lying on my table. No other man could 
sit for such a portraiture. No other family but his could 
make the life of a plain country minister as interesting as a 
novel, and as instructive as a work on moral philosophy. I 
have never yet met the man in whose presence, whenever 
I met him, I always felt so small, as in his. Settled in an 
obscure corner, remote from all the world, he soon burst out 
in his sermons on ' Dueling,' 'and ' The Government of God 
Desirable,' with a power that startled the land. There was 
an inward spring that drove the machine with a power often 
sublime, always effective, and wonderful in results. Beecher 
and Nettleton were the two great instruments in revivals, 
such as I have never seen equaled. But I took up my pen 
to give one or two reminiscences of the man. It was in the 
year 1820, when I was a member of Yale College, that the 
Spirit of God came down upon us with awful power. Mr. 
Nettleton was laboring in the city, and Professor Goodrich 
in the college. There were deep feeling, pungent convic- 
tions, earnest prayer, but for a time few conversions. Just 
at that time I w T as compelled to leave college on account of 
alarming symptoms of consumption. I was going north, 
and Professor Goodrich gave me a letter to carry to 'Mr. 
Beecher, of Litchfield.' The letter began thus: 'Brother 
Beecher, do you know there is a revival in Yale College? 

6 



82 JOHN TODD. 

Do you know you have a son in college? Do you know 
that Ave want your help at once, and that you must not de- 
lay to come?' On knocking at his door, he himself met me. 
I gave him the letter, and, without hardly speaking to me, 
he ran it through again and again. ' So you are sick, and 
need advice. Well, we have Doctor Sheldon, than whom no 
more skillful man can be found. We will go there at once.' 
Over we went. The doctor examined me, and said — and it 
was not till years afterward that I knew how much it fright- 
ened my new friend — 'Young man, I will prepare you some 
medicine. I think it will help you; but if it doesn't, look 
out !' From Doctor Sheldon's we went to Judge Reeve's 
house. With what awe I entered ! But I needed not, for 
I doubt whether Mr. Beechcr ever thought of me while in 
the house. He had the letter about the revival in his hand, 
and he was there to talk it over with his friend. ' I think it 
will be my duty to go,' said he, ' very soon.' Already his 
soul was full of it. It seemed to absorb every faculty. After 
tea I went with him to what he called a 'conference meet- 
ing.' Just after taking a seat, some one handed him a slip 
of paper. He read it, laid it down, and commenced the serv- 
ices. I am not sure whether he performed all the service 
himself, but think he did. Beginning to speak, he stopped 
and picked up the little paper, and read it. It was some 
question in theology which he was requested to answer. 
There I first saw the man. He first stripped the subject of 
all that did not belong to it, and then examined, explained, 
and poured out a torrent of condensed, fiery argument and 
illustration, such as I had never heard before. I seemed to 
see 'a second Daniel come to judgment.' He stood on a 
pedestal in my mind then, from which, to the close of life, 
he never descended. On going home after meeting, I went 
immediately, coughing, to bed. It was in a bedroom on the 
lower floor. After I was fairly in bed, he came and stood 
by me, and began to ask questions about the revival in col- 
lege. His son Edward, our first scholar, was a member of 
my class. Earnestly and minutely he questioned me about 
the work, about the meetings, the instruction that had been 
given, etc. ; and as he talked about it, the tears came down 
his cheeks like rivers. I never, in after years, saw him more 
moved. I went on my way, and he went down to the col- 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 83 

lege, and was the honored instrument of helping forward 
one of the most glorious revivals with which Yale was ever 
blessed. I was not present, but heard much about it. Into 
the hands of Edward, when his strong mind and heart began 
to quarrel with the theology which his father preached, he 
placed Edwards's sermon on ' The Justice of God in the Dam- 
nation of the Sinner' — a powerful medicine, but in this case 
efficacious. From this time I seldom met him, perhaps never 
to speak to him, till he came to Boston. Then, being settled 
in Groton, and both he and myself much mixed up in the 
famous ' Groton Council,' for which he wrote the celebrated 
and masterly result ' On the Civil Rights of Churches,' I saw 
much of him. He preached my ordination sermon. His 
hand was laid on my head in the consecrating prayer. And, 
what pleased me, he never forgot my first introduction to 
him. To the very last time I met him, in his extreme old 
age, he would always take me by the hand and say, or its 
equivalent, ' Todd, I remember the first time I ever saw you, 
and I have loved you ever since. I remember going to Doc- 
tor Sheldon's with you.' " 

"Our young friend and correspondent," writes Doctor 
Lee, " arrived at our house on Tuesday evening, much sooner 
than he had proposed or we expected, his departure being 
hastened by his failing health. We found him a very ob- 
serving, ingenuous, intelligent, affectionate, and interesting 
young man, and hopefully possessing the greatest of all ac- 
complishments — piety. His state of health was as critical 
as he had represented. The attending symptoms of pain 
in his breast, cough, and night-sweats were threatening ; so 
that our fears and hopes about his eventual recovery were 
equipoised. The account which he gave us of the rapid 
progress of the revival in New Haven was very animating, 
and the interest he appeared to take in it tended to endear 
him to us. In his countenance, figure, air, and manners, I 
recognized a resemblance of his father, the friend I once so 
highly valued, and whose memory will ever be dear to me. 
I put him under the care of our family physician, a gentle- 
man of experience and eminence in his profession, who pre- 
scribed for him, and attended to him while he staid. Dur- 
ing his continuance with us his health appeared stationary. 
He tarried till Friday morning, September 8th, and then 



84 JOHX TODD. 

took his departure for Malone. I was happily successful in 
hiring him a horse, and obtaining for him by charity a suf- 
ficient sum to defray the expenses of his journey, and re- 
joiced much in being able to redeem the pledge I had given 
him in the promise of assistance." 

On parting with his young friend, Doctor Lee, who was 
something of a rhymer, put into his hands some amusing 
lines of advice, ending with an acrostic on his name. "This 
acrostic Mr. Lee had set to music, and he and his family 
used to sing it. The name of the tune was 'John Todd;' 
yet, notwithstanding its harsh name, it was a delightful 
piece of music." 

At Doctor Lee's lie had met a niece of his, Mrs. Bulkley, 
who became greatly interested in him; and at her invita- 
tion he stopped for a day or two at her house in Sheffield, 
Massachusetts, on his way north. An extract from a letter 
of hers to one of his sisters will show the kind of impression 
that he made at that time upon strangers: 

" Were I, my dear Miss Todd, to attempt expressing to 
you the high estimation with which I view your brother, 
the invaluable blessing I consider such a character to soci- 
ety, the loss that the Church of Christ would sustain by the 
removal of such a man, you might perhaps think my object 
was to gratify the feelings of an affectionate sister; but this, 
I trust, would not be my motive. Your brother's merits and 
excellencies of character are too conspicuous to need the eu- 
logiums of any ; they will soon be discovered by an impar- 
tial observer; and I do not hesitate to say that few young 
men in our country rank so high, and I consider my acquaint- 
ance with him among the most fortunate events of my life." 

From Sheffield he pursued his journey northward, pass- 
ing, without knowing it, through the town where the best 
part of his life was to be spent, lingering a little and de- 
livering his letters of introduction in the neighborhood of 
his father's old home, and everywhere receiving attention 
and kindness, and then pushing on toward his destination. 
Sometimes he " rode forty-six miles in one day," and after 
it spent " a sleepless night." He kept a journal, also, in 
which he " wrote every night, at a public house, and often 
when too sick to hold a pen," and in which he made sketches 
of the objects which he found most interesting. 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 85 

"Did the reader never look with admiration upon that 
enchanting spot called Grand Isle, anchored off as if cooling 
herself in the lake; while Plattsburg and St. Albans, like an 
eye in each state, New York and Vermont, seem to be cast- 
ing most coveting glances upon this water-nymph? If 
he has not seen all this, he has much pleasure before him, 
should he ever visit this delightful region. At the close of 
the day in early autumn, I rode up to a small tavern on the 
lower point of the island, just in sight of the place around 
which, during the last war, the British fleet hove on a bright 
Sabbath morning. There the cannon roared, the groans of 
death were heard, the blood reddened the waters, and the 
shouts of victory were heard — the victory of McDonough ! 
I was standing in the little piazza, and calling to mind this 
strife of blood between two nations bound together by ev- 
ery tie, and between which no other feelings save those of 
mother and daughter ought ever to exist, when the land- 
lady came up, and asked me to step upstairs and see 'a 
poor, sick young man, a stranger.' 'Do you know who he 
is, or where he came from ?' ' No, sir. He came across the 
lake a few days since, and when he rode up I thought he 
must be intoxicated. He could hardly sit on his horse ; 
and when he stopped he rather fell off than got off. He 
has been here three days ; and though I have tried to coax 
him, yet he has eaten nothing but one soft egg a day since 
he came. The poor fellow tells me he has no friends, and 
I think he is not long for this world. He seems to be a 
very good man.' On entering the chamber, I found him on 
the bed, leaning on his elbow, and gazing out of the window 
upon the same spot at which I had just been looking. He 
seemed glad to see a new face ; told me his name was John 
Todd, a member of the junior class in college; that he had 
left college, as a last resort to gain his health, which had 
been prostrated by study. He was supposed to be in what 
is there called ' the galloping consumption,' had reached this 
spot, and here became too feeble to go farther. Others 
thought he was near the grave, and would never leave this 
place; but he was cheerful, elastic, expecting to live and do 
much good. I shook my head, but did not shake his hopes 
or confidence. I never before saw a spirit so buoyant, so 
confident in the belief that God would use it as an instru- 



86 JOHN TODD. 

raent of usefulness to men. It seemed as if nothing short 
of the hand of death could crush or even repress this hope. 
He had a dreadful cough, and every symptom seemed dis- 
couraging. Even his hopes — were they not such as every 
consumptive patient cherishes ?" 

Having recruited his strength a little, he crossed the 
lake, and soon arrived at Mai one. Here he found three of 
his sisters, one of whom he then saw for the first and only 
time in his life. His visit with them was a delightful one. 
It was long since so many of the scattered family had been 
together. But he seems to have formed an unfavorable 
opinion of the place. Writing soon afterward to his re- 
maining sister, with reference to an invitation from her sis- 
ters to join them, he says : " The country at Malone is en- 
tirely new. The roads are awfully bad, and a howling wil- 
derness bounds the prospect on every side. The society is 
new. It is composed of people collected together from all 
parts, and of all descriptions and characters. Their man- 
ners and customs, of course, are very widely different, and 
different from what we are accustomed to. The young men 
are generally active and enterprising, but they are clownish 
and almost savage. Their first plan, after marrying, is to 
spend three or four days in building a little log cabin. Here 
they live, having but one room, till the husband levels the 
forest around with his axe, and cultivates his farm. In 
about ten or twelve years they are able, if industrious and 
prosperous, to build a framed house, which is a great luxury. 
The young men are much more numerous than the young 
girls, and an old maid is a great curiosity. They dress very 
simply, and somewhat slovenly. I dressed as I usually do, 
in a black suit, and they thought me at first a fop of the 
highest order. Every man, with few exceptions, is either a 
colonel, a judge, a squire, or a captain, and yet there is not 
a man of liberal education among them. I do not recollect 
that I took any liberties in displaying what I knew, yet 
they thought me almost a prodigy of learning. I mention 
these things to give you an idea of the state of society at 
Malone. I think you would not enjoy yourself there. In 
looking over this scrawl, I am reminded of the Dutchman's 
letter. He wrote every thing that he could think of, and 
then added that he had not time to be particular." 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 87 

His stay in tnis charming spot was short, as he was im- 
patient to return to his studies. His health had now begun 
to improve, so that when he reached Colebrook, on the 17th 
of October, Doctor Lee was able to write : "His threatening 
symptoms were gone; his strength and appetite daily in- 
creasing. On Tuesday, the 24th, he left here in good spirits 
to resume his studies at college. Thus our hopes are real- 
ized ; our prayers graciously answered." 

These appearances, however, were deceptive. Scarcely 
had he been at work for a week when he began to complain : 
"My health has not been so good. Last night was a very 
uncomfortable time. My cough is violent, though not so 
constant as before I went my tour. President Day advises 
me to go immediately on a voyage to Europe; if not, to the 
South. I fear my health will compel me to leave soon, 
though I shall not as long as able to keep about. I room 
in the fourth loft, and find it hard to get up and down so 
many stairs." 

Just at this time he received a letter from his old friend 
Mr. Evarts, remonstrating with him against attempting to 
go on with his studies, and urging him to go South for the 
winter, find some position in which, by teaching, he might 
earn a little, and return the next year to join the class below 
him. The advice was accompanied with a gift of ten dol- 
lars. This letter struck " almost a death-blow" to his hopes. 
On his showing it to President Day, the president, under 
one of those impulses which led him to do so many quiet 
acts of kindness that were never known to many, seconded 
Mr. Evarts's advice, and added to it a gift of fifty dollars. 
Still the young student hesitated about taking the advice or 
the assistance. He could not bear to relinquish his studies. 
Two weeks after this he wrote : "I shall try to make myself 
as comfortable here as I can, and at this late season shall 
not think of leaving for the South. I know how disagree- 
able it is to be in a land of strangers, and destitute and sick ; 
and I know, too, that this would not restore my health. 
Should my health fail, and should I be as low as I was yes- 
terday and the day before, I shall leave college never ex- 
pecting to return." 

In a very short time, however, he was compelled to yield 
to the urgency of his friends. The winter was unusually 



88 JOHN TODD. 

severe, "shutting up our harbors at the North to an extent 
almost unprecedented," and his health and strength were 
rapidly giving way. "Just at evening, on a terribly cold 
day, destitute and sick, and bleeding at the lungs, I was 
drawn down the harbor upon the ice, by a sailor, upon a 
hand-sled, to go on board a brig which had almost cut her 
way into the open water. I had had no notice of the brig's 
departure till within an hour before I went down to go. I 
had letters of introduction from President Day and others 
of New Haven, from Mr. Evarts, and Father Lee." A purse 
had also been made up for him among his friends in Hotch- 
kisstown and New Haven. " My passage (brig William) 
was very short — four days ; but it was stormy, and there 
were high winds all the time. I did not see the sun while 
on the big waters. I was sea-sick, and kept my dirty little 
berth most of the time. It was on the Sabbath when I 
lauded, not knowing, as I supposed, a single soul in Caro- 
lina. Walking up the street, I found myself opposite the 
Circular Church when the public service closed. The first 
individual that came out was my old acquaintance, Finley 
Morse, of Charlestown, Massachusetts. He took me at once 
to the house of the pastor of the Circular Church, Rev. 
Doctor Palmer, to whom also I had a letter of introduction. 
In his family I was received with all the tenderness and 
kindness that parents could manifest." 

In a letter written to one of his brothers at the time, he 
says : " I was invited to stay all night. I did so, and here I 
have been ever since. Mrs. Palmer, though the mother of a 
large family, calls me her son. I have proposed to go to a 
boarding-house, but she has as yet forbidden me. Con- 
sidering her large family, and the many strangers who call, 
I am surprised that she is so good to me. I had hoped 
to obtain some employment here, but as yet have seen no 
opening. Should I not find any, I must go to Savannah or 
return to the North. I have an able physician, who daily 
visits me, though I endeavored not to call medical help ; but 
Mrs. Palmer was stronger than I. Doctor Whitridge has 
put me on what I call a rigid course of medicine; but he in- 
tends all for the best. The climate is very delightful at the 
present time ; it resembles the latter part of our May. The 
sight of beautiful gardens made yellow by oranges was novel 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 89 

to me. Oranges grow here very luxuriantly. Roses were in 
full bloom when I arrived. You may imagine, to come from 
our deep snows of the North, and in four days to find myself 
in so delightful a climate, was very strange to me. The 
ladies are generally dressed in white. The negroes go bare- 
foot all winter." 

"February 3d. 
" Since writing the above, I have taken an excursion into 
the country on horseback with Doctor Palmer. Our ride 
was about thirty miles from the city, through a most dreary 
road. I have described it at large in my journal." (This 
journal, like the one kept on his trip to the North, is irre- 
coverably lost.) "My health is not much improved by the 
ride, though my spirits were somewhat exhilarated. I have 
had a good offer to take a school here, provided I would stay 
through the summer ; but my health and disposition forbid 
this. The offer was nine hundred dollars per annum with- 
out my board, or five hundred with it. I would accept it 
were my health good ; but as I am, I can not. I have agreed 
to give a young lady private lessons in the mathematics, for 
which she is to pay me thirty dollars for twelve weeks. 
Mrs. Palmer has kindly invited me to stay in her family a 
month, an invitation which I presume I shall accept." The 
result was that he remained in her family about four months, 
or during his entire stay at the South. "My friends in New 
Haven gave me a handsome purse when I left, but every 
thing is very high here. I wear a Lycurgean dress alto- 
gether, which looks somewhat odd in this country ; but you 
know our family love to be odd." Here follow minute 
directions as to the distribution of his furniture, books, and 
clothes among his friends, in case, as seems probable, he 
never return ; and then, with an amusing but characteristic 
change of tone, he adds : " Should I live, I shall return to the 
North by the 1st of June. Should this be the case, will you 
furnish me with a new hat ? I will try to reward you for it. 
I trust, my dear brother, though I am many hundred miles 
from you, that you do not fail to pray for me, and that, too, 
often. You may wish to know how I like this country. I 
have not time to tell you now. Every thing here is different 
from what I had supposed when at the North. I do not think 
this a good place to acquire religion, though it is so to obtain 



90 JOHN TODD. 

ease and elegant manners. The slavery here shocks me." 
And well it might. More than once or twice he saw his kind 
hostess herself send a servant -girl to a public whipping- 
house, with a note designating the number of lashes which 
she wished administered. And very soon after his arrival 
public notice was given by the authorities of Charleston, 
to all ministers of the Gospel and other benevolent persons 
ens:as:ed in teaching the blacks to read, in nio-ht- schools, 
that they were violating the laws, and must desist. During 
this visit to the South he conceived a deep abhorrence of the 
institution of slavery, which he consistently maintained and 
frankly avowed all through his life, though he did not ap- 
prove of the measures of the early abolitionists, and pre- 
served too grateful a remembrance of Southern kindness to 
sympathize with their spirit, "You need not feel anxious 
about me; I shall be well taken care of while I stay here. 
I am confident God can give the fatherless friends in any 
situation." Of this he experienced the truth most remark- 
ably. One Saturday evening, as lie was reflecting somewhat 
despondently on his condition, the door-bell rang, and a 
note was brought to him. On opening the note, he found 
merely the words, "My God shall supply all your need," 
and a fifty- dollar bill. The missive proved afterward to 
have come from two excellent ladies of the name of Grimke, 
who had become interested in him. They belonged to the 
Society of Friends, and would have liked to proselyte him ; 
but he was not cut out for a Quaker. At another time the 
daughters of Doctor Kamsay sent him an order on a certain 
book-seller for books to a considerable amount. It was gen- 
erally expected among the good people who were interested 
in him, that the young man who had dedicated himself to 
the ministry, and who seemed to be on the brink of eternity, 
would procure with the order some very pious and profit- 
able works; and they were not a little scandalized when 
they found that, among other books of a scarcely more theo- 
logical character, he had chosen a copy of Shakspeare. 

At the end of about four months, when it began to be hot, 
and his health seemed almost restored, his friends in the Cir- 
cular Church made up a purse of a hundred dollars, and 
bought him a horse, with saddle and bridle, and sent him 
away with kindest wishes. In the year 1860 he revisited 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 91 

Charleston, having been invited to a council called to settle 
a pastor over the old Circular Church, which is of the Con- 
gregational order. In beginning his " charge " to this pas- 
tor, he briefly recapitulated the story just given, and added: 
"As a matter of taste merely, this personal incident should 
have been omitted ; but may I not be excused for referring 
to a burden of gratitude which has been lying on my heart 
for forty years, and which will not be taken off even now? 
It is the first opportunity in all these long years I have had 
to make my acknowledgments; and now, the kind and noble 
ones whose faces I would recall are mostly among the dead ! 
Their record, I am sure, is on high." 

His route homeward brought him near the Natural 
Bridge, in Virginia, and other points of interest, which he 
visited, and after his return described in some articles- which 
were among the first that he ever published, and were so 
well received that they were very soon reproduced in Eu- 
rope. These sketches are the only memorials of his long and 
lonely ride. His horse, which he had named " Pilgrim," 
proved to be a losing investment; for, having been broken, 
as many Southern horses are, to the saddle only, his excel- 
lences were not appreciated at the North, and his owner, 
when he no longer wanted him, was obliged to sell him for 
sixteen dollars. 

The 1st of June found the student who had been sent 
away to die back in his class in college again, and " buried 
in studies." The worst symptoms of his disease had almost 
disappeared, but he was still far from well, and the closeness 
with which he now applied himself to his work was unfavor- 
able for his complete restoration. " I study all day and till 
half-past eleven at night, take no exercise, and rise at half- 
past four in the morning. It is not strange that he became 
low-spirited, nervous, and miserable. He was determined 
to maintain his standing in his own class, and not drop into 
the next class and lose a year, if he could help it. 

In the midst of his despondency, one cheering piece of in- 
telligence came to gladden him. Charlotte, who was near- 
est and best known to him of all his sisters, had become a 
Christian. His letter to her is worthy of being read, as giv- 
ing not merely his theory of religion, but the theory which 
he put into his own practice: "I hear what God has done 



92 JOHN TODD. 

for Guilford, and my heart rejoices. And has he redeemed 
the soul of my sister? Oh, this is more than I could ex- 
pect, or dared to hope. I can not tell you my feelings. 
Ah, Charlotte, how much do you not owe to God ! Will 
you not devote your time, your talents, and all your facul- 
ties to the advancement of the Redeemer's kingdom ? Your 
opportunities have been great, your advantages great, and 
much will reasonably be expected of you. Dare to do good. 
But rest not in your own strength. You have but just en- 
tered upon a school in which you are to be instructed 
throughout eternity. Let the Scriptures be your constant 
guide. Read them often ; pray over them ; consult them as 
you would a chart, were you a sailor. Strive not only to 
be a Christian, but to be an eminent Christian ; not only to 
do good, but to do much good. You can not be a Christian 
without letting your benevolence be an active principle. 
As well might you catch the beams of the sun and weave 
them into the mantle of midnight as to enjoy religion with- 
out trying to do good to others. I hope you will ever cul- 
tivate the religion of the closet. It is here our joys and our 
sorrows, our light and our darkness, commence. Pray and 
meditate by yourself every morning and every evening; 
never omit it, unless you would ruin your soul. I do re- 
joice I have a sister near me now who can enter into my 
joys and sorrows, and feel with me. Oh, could I see my 
sister and friends but for a moment, it would rejoice my 
heart much — a heart that is almost withered among stran- 
gers. I send you a gold piece, which is in value five dollars. 
It was given me for writing a piece entitled 'The Orphan,' 
which has been printed in several publications. I calculated 
to have kept this piece of gold as a kind of pocket-piece, 
but I find I love you too well." 

During his last year in college he came out of the straits 
somewhat into a broader place. His studies were easier, 
and he had made up for his lost time, and his standing in 
the class had become secure. His health was very much 
better, and he began to show it. He exchanged the stoop 
with which his friends had often found fault for an erect 
and manly carriage. Having more leisure, he cultivated the 
friendship of his classmates; and they were surprised to find 
the hurried, laborious, abstracted, and sickly scholar so genial 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 93 

and agreeable. One of his classmates writes: "Until the 
last year he was not as well known by his classmates as 
others, though he had more acquaintance with the ladies of 
New Haven than almost any one else." This was in part 
owing to the fact that his circumstances were such as to ex- 
cite their sympathy and benevolence. Among the ladies 
who befriended him was a Mrs. Denison, who had two daugh- 
ters, into whose society he naturally fell. The elder of these 
daughters, Mary, was an interesting and brilliant young lady, 
very generally pleasing to men of education. It was whis- 
pered by the gossips that this young lady and Mr. Todd 
were very intimate. It is certain that he admired her, and 
equally certain that there was no more serious feeling on 
either side. She married and removed to New York State, 
and her history was not a happy one. A more important 
acquaintance was made by Mr. Todd, while teaching for a 
few weeks in Rev. Charles Herrick's school. Here he saw, 
for the first time, the one who was to exercise most influence 
upon all his subsequent career. She was at that time a pupil 
in that school ; and her only recollection of the young teach- 
er amusingly illustrates that taste for the pathetic, and love 
of making people feel bad, which was one of his striking 
characteristics, and which led some one to say at his funeral 
that the only consolation of the occasion was, that he was 
not there to conduct the exercises himself, for no one could 
have endured it. She says that, though he had only been 
teaching in the school for a few days as a substitute, yet. on 
the last morning of his being there, in conducting the devo- 
tions of the school, he read that chapter of x\cts which de- 
scribes the parting of Paul from the elders of Ephesus, and 
their sorrow that " they should see his face no more," and so 
skillfully treated the parallel that all the girls cried! Dur- 
ing this senior year he wrote quite a number of brief articles, 
which were first published in the Seamerfs Magazine, and 
the best of which were afterward collected in a little volume 
called " Simple Sketches." 

In the spring of the senior year he left college, many 
weeks before the close of the term, to take charge of a school 
in Fairfield, in the village of Weston. 

" I have the honor to be the preceptor of Staples's Acade- 
my, established in this place, and have consequently been 



04 JOHN TODD. 

closely confined ever since I came here. My school is not 
very large as to numbers, but is laborious. Most of my stu- 
dents are studying Greek, or Latin, or French, and some of 
them all three. My time, however, is almost out, as I have 
but a few more weeks to stay. I have been urged to stay 
another year, but for various reasons think I had better not. 
My wages are not very great, but I receive my wages in 
money, without any trouble of collecting. I receive two 
hundred dollars for twenty-four weeks' services. I could 
receive five hundred dollars for the coming year, if I could 
think it my duty to stay here ; but as I do not, I shall leave 
as soon as my time is expired. By the aid of the two hun- 
dred dollars which I earn this summer, I shall be able to pay 
oil' all my college debts, and have about sixty or seventy 
dollars left. It is now my intention to go immediately upon 
the study of theology, in which study I expect to spend 
the three coming years, should I live so long. Perhaps I 
might get licensed to preach in less than three years; but I 
wish to have my education as complete as possible. I am 
undetermined where to spend the next three years. I shall 
either stay at New Haven, or go to Andover, Massachusetts. 
Both places afford good advantages. Andover is so cold 
that I fear for my health, but it is cheap living there. New 
Haven climate is more congenial to my constitution, but not 
at all agreeing with my purse. I must, however, determine 
soon whither I go, as I expect to commence study in about 
five or six weeks. You may wonder how I am to support 
myself while burrowed up three years more; indeed, I al- 
most wonder myself; but as I have always got along well, 
so I think I shall in future. I have many friends who would 
almost give me their eyes if I needed them ; and I hope 
among some of these good friends to borrow money as I 
need till I get my profession." 

At Weston he first boarded for a time with the minister; 
but the family being large, and his situation not altogether 
agreeable, a place was found for him in the family of Mr. 
Jeremiah Osborne, the father of the late Judge Osborne, 
of New Haven. Mr. Osborne lived in a fine house in afflu- 
ence, and the family did every thing in their power for the 
young teacher. The two daughters especially were really 
sisters to him ; and not only during his service at Weston, 



LIFE AT COLLEGE. 95 

but through his entire theological course, and till he had 
a home of his own, he always found a welcome and a home 
with the Osbornes. It was a kindness which he never for- 
got. During his residence with them, his health, though im- 
proved, was far from established. He would often return 
from the academy pale and weak, so that he would have to 
sit down and rest before ascending the steps, and would 
then go to the table, and eat a few little things very spar- 
ingly. And this was his habit all through life. He was an 
exceedingly small eater. Meat he abhorred : with the ex- 
ception of now and then a favorite dish, his taste was simple 
and his appetite delicate, and often he would leave meal 
after meal untouched. Though his consumptive symptoms 
gradually left him, his constitution always felt and showed 
the effects of the disease. He was never a well and hearty 
man. 

A short time before the expiration of his service at Wes- 
ton, he took a week's vacation, and went over to New Haven 
to take his degree with his class. He had accomplished his 
purpose. In spite of poverty and sickness and hard work, 
he had gone through the course without delay, and out of a 
class of seventy-seven was one of the few appointed to speak 
on the commencement stage. His dissertation in the after- 
noon was on "The Influence of a High Standard of Attain- 
ment." There was but one thing to mar his triumph. He 
had only a brother and sister present to share it with him ; 
and when his classmates had dispersed, and he had no longer 
a place within college walls, he was once more alone, and 
without a home in the world. 

This story of a desperate struggle for an education may 
fittingly close with the following letter, written many years 
afterward : 

" Pittsfield, April 5th, 1853. 

"Dear Sir, — For reasons which will be obvious (I was 
educated at Yale, and am a trustee of Williams), I would 
advise you to go to Yale or Williams. They are both 
good, but Yale is very expensive, while Williams is moder- 
ate. I think if I were poor, and had to feed myself with 
one hand and hold my book with the other, I would go to 
Williams. However, a man who wills it can go anywhere, 
and do what he determines to do. We must make our- 



96 JOHN TODD. 

selves, or come to nothing. We must swim off, and not 
wait for any one to come and put cork under us. I con- 
gratulate you on being poor, and thus compelled to work; 
it was all that ever made me what little I am. 3Iacte vir- 
tute. Don't flinch, flounder, fall, nor fiddle, but grapple like 
a man, and you'll be a man. Yours, truly, 

" J. Todd." 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 97 



CHAPTER VII. 

LIFE AT ANDOVEE. 

Andover Hill.— Doctor Porter.— Doctor Woods.— Doctor Stuart.— Doctor 
Murdock.— Quiet Life.— A Letter of Introduction. — Preaching without a 
License. — Qualities of a Minister's Wife.— Memories. — The first Sermon. 
— North Andover.— The Blind Student.— A solemn Contract.— Loves to 
Preach. — A pedestrian Tour. — Osborneville.— Expectant Friends. 

"It is now a little over -fifty years since, after a cold ride 
on the top of the stage, I found myself in Andover. A 
short examination of my papers and attainments, and I was 
a member of the seminary. Those who now see 'Andover 
Hill,' with its beautiful buildings, its graded walks, its 
splendid trees, and profusion of beautiful things, can have 
no idea how dreary, comparatively, it looked then." He 
had finally selected Andover as the place of his theological 
training — partly from motives of economy, and partly from 
dislike to New Haven theology. He went to the seminary, 
therefore, almost directly from Weston, in the fall of 1822. 
His entrance into the seminary was like the coming of a 
ship out of a stormy sea into the smooth waters of a harbor. 
His debts were paid, and though he had but a few dollars 
to live upon, he had an established reputation and charac- 
ter, and a host of friends; He was no longer a friendless, 
penniless orphan boy of unknown abilities struggling for an 
education, with little prospect of success. His health, though 
delicate, was much improved, and was becoming daily more 
confirmed. He had now nothing to do but to devote him- 
self to the peaceful life of the seminary. So still was the 
life, and so absorbed in it was the student, that for several 
months hardly an incident of interest occurred to disturb 
its uniformity. 

There were fewer seminaries then than there are now, 
and Andover was a place of great religious importance. 
The classes were large — that which Mr. Todd entered num- 
bered fifty-one — and the professors were men of distin- 
guished reputation. They were all of them greatly re- 

7 



98 JOHN TODD. 

spected and beloved by Mr. Todd, and gratefully remem- 
bered by him as long as he lived. His discriminating 
sketches of them, made after a year or two of acquaintance 
with them, and hardly changed by the judgment of later 
years, show the nature of the influences under which he was 
formed and trained, and the characters of the men who left 
their impress upon him. 

" Doctor Ebenezer Porter, professor of sacred rhetoric, is 
a gentleman in his manners — rather tall, slim, graceful in 
movement, mild and winning in looks, with a voice not ca- 
pable of great compass, but finely modulated, and musical to 
a high degree, and so managed that his whisper will reach 
every ear in the house. He thinks slowly, and speaks still 
more slowly ; deliberates well before he pens or utters a sen- 
tence, but when he has once got it out, it is perfect, so far as 
language is concerned. His mind is so disciplined, that he 
can write just so much in a given time without depending on 
wind and weather. He is generally a good judge of charac- 
ter. He must be, and is, our model as a preacher, and often 
far too much so. That this necessity of drawing all eyes 
upon him makes him more or less artificial, I shall not deny. 
We all prick up our ears when we see him go into the pul- 
pit on a Sabbath morning. Those who heard him preach 
his sermon on the decision of Nehemiah, as he brought out 
at the end of every picture, 'He went on building,' will 
never forget the deep impression made. It seemed like the 
striking of one of the great bells of Moscow, sending out its 
notes long after the tongue had become quiet. He is clear, 
gentle, decided, and evangelical." Of all the professors, 
Doctor Porter was the one to whom Mr. Todd became most 
strongly attached, and with whom he came to stand' in the 
closest personal relations. 

"Doctor Leonard Woods, professor of theology, is tall in 
stature, finely proportioned, with a mild, pure, gray eye, and 
a calm, gentle, patient, and thoughtful face. He is the great- 
est thinker I ever saw. His mind is a complete laboratory 
of metaphysics. He has no glare, no quickness, no flashes ; 
but he is always interesting, always correct, always unan- 
swerable. He is like a good, strong, iron-sided horse, which 
goes on a strong, heavy trot, with the same gait, always 
keeps the same pace up hill and down, never starts or 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 99 

plunges, is never antic. He knows but little about rheto- 
ric, little about languages ; but you may let Demosthenes 
thunder at him, and pile all Germany with their philology 
upon him, and you will not move him. He must reUson the 
subject out, and reason is the only weapon which he can be 
made to feel. He does not surprise us by startling origi- 
nality or new theories, or giving new names to old things. 
But his thoughts are clear as distilled water. There is no 
color in his light, but he has the power of- throwing off all 
that is extraneous in the subject in hand ; then of holding it 
up patiently and carefully in the light of the Bible, and un- 
emotionally urging his views with logic unsurpassed. He 
reads human nature admirably. The reverence that he pays 
to the Bible is deep and earnest. He ever teaches that what 
the sun is to the earth — light and heat — that the Bible is to 
the Church. 

" Doctor Moses Stuart, professor of sacred literature, is a 
tall, slim man, with a musical and sonorous voice, who holds 
his audience entranced. He is no such horse as I have 
mentioned ; for if you make him a horse, you must now make 
him a war-horse, and, with Job, clothe his neck with thun- 
der, rushing upon the pikes of the enemy, and now rearing 
and plunging like a colt newly harnessed. He carries an 
enthusiasm in his nature that would open a mine of quick- 
silver in the most barren mountain. He has a sort of mag- 
netic power, never wanting, by which the whole seminary is 
lighted up into his region of thought and study. He cer- 
tainly is a great man, and has a prodigious force of mind. 
His soul is always bounding and burning. If with this ever- 
lasting go-forward of his he was well balanced with judg- 
ment, he would be a giant. I ever admire him, always feel 
delighted and kindled when in his company, but never feel 
that his ipse dixit is safe to follow without re-examination. 
He is like our five-hundred-year comet, bright, fiery, daz- 
zling, but so eccentric in its orbit and so rapid in its course 
that you have difficulty in calculating its progress. He is 
always modest, never deciding what the Scriptures ought to 
teach, but what they do teach. His reverence for the Word 
of God is most remarkable ; and I remember his saying to 
me, ' Light comes from above ; you will get more light on 
the Scriptures by prayer than in all other ways ; look up.' 



100 JOHN TODD. 

He is a decided dyspeptic; and I have no doubt that he 
often mistakes the miseries of a weak digestion for the hid- 
ings of God's face. But, when the clouds are lighted up, 
and he feels well, happy is the pupil that can walk and talk 
with him; and, above all, awed and delighted all are when 
in prayer he comes to the atonement of the cross. His face 
fairly glows, and reverence, and awe, and admiration, and 
love seem to swell up in his heart, and come out in tones 
and words such- as I never heard from other lips. I look 
back to the influence he had upon me with deep gratitude, 
and his voice still sounds in my ears like the music that 
floats over the still waters in the dusk of evening from some 
island whose form you wish you could see. 

" Doctor James Murdock, professor of ecclesiastical his- 
tory, is a little, apple-faced man, gentlemanly in his manners, 
agreeable in his conversation. He is master of more litera- 
ture than any of the others. He is at home in Greek, He- 
brew, and German. He has a strong memory, and his head 
is a complete repository of all the facts, events, names, and 
dates in the world. He is the most instructive man in con- 
versation that I have ever seen." 

Such were the men who for three years guided and mold- 
ed him. They were men of extraordinary enthusiasm in 
their several departments, and the time was that in which 
the conflict between Unitarianism and orthodoxy was at its 
height, and the controversy between Channing and Ware, 
on the one side, with Stuart and Woods and Beecher, on the 
other, was awakening echoes in every village. Hence there 
were an excitement and enthusiasm aroused in the seminary 
such as have hardly existed since. Into all this the eager, 
earnest young student threw his whole soul, at once delight- 
ing in and not a little increasing the fervor. 

For the first year, however, he was scarcely drawn into 
this excitement. He was in the lowest class, and his studies 
were of a quiet character. Only one event occurred of any 
importance, but that was destined to exert a greater influ- 
ence upon his life than almost any other. Among his col- 
lege memories, the recollection of one whom he had seen for 
a few days in Mr. Herrick's school was one of the brightest 
and most carefully treasured. Midnight studies of Hebrew 
had not effaced from his mind the fair image of Mary Brace. 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 101 

And so, in June, near the close of his first year in the semi- 
nary, he found or made an errand to Hartford ; and finding 
himself accidentally in the neighborhood of Newington, he 
obtained from a young minister who had met Rev. Mr. 
Brace, but had almost no acquaintance with him, a letter of 
introduction. 

" New Haven, June 6th, 1823. 
"Dear Sir, — Will you allow me to introduce to your ac- 
quaintance Mr. John Todd, a student from Andover, and 
now on his return. Should he find it in his way to call on 
you, you will find him an agreeable and intelligent visitor, 
and ready for any good work you may propose to promote 
the cause of the Redeemer among your people. As we stu- 
dents in theology like to form acquaintance among the min- 
isters of our country, you will excuse the liberty I have 

taken to make my friend, Mr. T , acquainted with you, 

although you may be hardly able to recollect me. 

"Your affectionate friend, ." 

Armed with this precious document, Mr. Todd did "find 
it in his way to call" on Rev. Mr. Brace, "ready for any 
good work," more especially that of making himself agree- 
able to his eldest daughter. His reception was such as 
might possibly have discouraged, not to say dismayed, a 
less determined suitor ; but it was of no use : he had made 
up his mind, and the garrison might as well have surren- 
dered at once without farther parley. In the course of a 
stay of a few days he did contrive so far to break through 
the reserve as to obtain the unwilling consent of all parties 
to the opening of a correspondence, and with this victory he 
retired. One of the first letters of this correspondence states 
very frankly the object to which his life is to be directed : 

" From the very nature of my situation and circumstances, 
I know not what is before me in life. I know not, and I 
care not, where my life is spent ; and, if the good of the 
Church demands it, I care not how soon it is spent. My 
object in living is but one — to do good. To this every sub- 
ordinate desire, every panting of ambition, every longing 
after fame, must and shall be subjected." 

During this vacation, while sojourning temporarily in a 
small village, Mr. Todd was called upon one evening to 



102 JOHN TODD. 

make some remarks before a small gathering of persons for 
religious worship. He did so ; and, on returning to Ando- 
ver, was severely reprimanded by the Faculty, who rigidly 
enforced the rule against, preaching without a license. They 
required him to make in their presence an expression of con- 
trition for this misdemeanor. Without demurring in the 
least, Mr. Todd rose from his seat, and, with a countenance 
expressive of the deepest sorrow and with downcast eyes, 
delivered himself as follows: "I, John Todd, in the presence 
of this august assembly, with feelings of the deepest contri- 
tion and repentance, do express my most heartfelt regret 

and sorrow for having (on such a day) in the village of , 

in a small school-house, exhorted the people to repentance, 
and to seek their eternal salvation through God ; and of 
such a crime may I be pardoned." 

Soon after the beginning of the second year in the semi- 
nary, he writes: "I am now pleasantly situated, in a cold 
climate, but in a warm room, four stories high, whence I can 
look off on the cold mountains, and see even the Monadnock. 
As you may suppose, I am buried up in theology. I am 
much driven in study. My class recites three times a week 
in theology, once in Hebrew, once in Greek, and attends 
three lectures, sometimes four. Besides this, I belong to 
four different weekly societies which meet evenings. In ad- 
dition to this, I have now the appointment of writing a dis- 
sertation of one hour in length, to be delivered before the 
Society of Inquiry, respecting missions. This society em- 
braces the whole seminary. My object will be to prove 
that the Gospel, since the Resurrection, has never been prop- 
agated in any country except by means of foreign missions. 
This will require great research and critical investigation. 
I have not yet begun, though I have thirty-five octavo vol- 
umes, of which ten are in French, in my room, for my first 
leisure. It must be ready in eight or nine weeks." 

In the midst of his studies and societies, Mr. Todd found 
time to do a good deal of literary work. He wrote, and 
published anonymously, an article on Swedenborgianism, 
which made great commotion, and excited much indignation 
among the believers in that mystery. He was also intrusted 
with the superintendence of the publication of a little work 
by Doctor Woods. It was his full purpose to engage largely 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 103 

in such work in his future life, and not to content himself 
with the sphere of a parish. And in these plans he sought 
to interest her whom by this time he felt encouraged to as- 
sociate with them. "You need not that I tell you that a 
minister's wife is often as useful as the man himself. Your 
own good mother has taught you this by her example. She 
can be active herself, and by example and precept she can 
do immense good among the people of his charge. Add to 
this, she is to be the adviser of her husband, is to sympathize 
with him in his sorrows and trials, to cheer him under dis- 
couragements and despondency, to check all his improprie- 
ties, to mend his weaknesses, to soften all his asperities, to 
help him grow in piety and holiness. You will, doubtless, 
find many frailties in me. My pride you must turn to hu- 
mility ; my ambition you must curb and restrain. If I live, 
I intend to own a good library, and to be a student through 
life. I can not think of treading the mere path of parochial 
duties. I hope to be diligent, active, persevering. To this 
object I am now bending my studies and the discipline of 
my mind. My situation and disposition are such that I 
never expect to be rich. I hope to be comfortable, and 
never to be parsimonious. As to my natural talents, being 
such as God has given, it becomes me neither to be proud 
nor ashamed of them. 

"As to your teacher's mnemonics, I perfectly detest them. 
I studied them once, and wasted my time and strength. I 
do despise that littleness of mind and soul that can concen- 
trate the powers of immortality upon the points of needles. 
I can not, will not, be playing in the shell of a mustard-seed 
when I may rise and survey the universe. 

"My chum and myself have sent to Boston and procured 
a pair of battledoors and three winged attendants, with 
which we practice for half an hour in our room after breakfast 
and dinner. I find this exercise exceedingly valuable. As 
you enter our room you see it is square, and the floor paint- 
ed yellow. Here you find my chum and myself each bend- 
ing over a portable writing-desk laid upon two marble-col- 
ored tables. You see our room ornamented with four pretty 
chairs, a beautiful mahogany bureau, large mirror — all fur- 
nished by the munificent Mr. Bartlett. All the rooms in this 
building are furnished alike. Nothing could add to our con- 



104 VftfflV TODD. 

venience if we had a carpet. But this is of little conse- 
quence." 

"February 14th, 1823. 

"I have just begun my first sermon. You will find the 
text in Psalm cxxxvii., first three verses. I suppose it will 
be but a coarse piece of work, like the first productions of 
the apprentice." 

"March 6th. 

" I think I have told you how I go out every Sabbath even- 
ing to hold meetings in a distant neighborhood. It is situ- 
uated in Andover, a few miles from the seminary." The 
ban had by this time been removed, and, though not regu- 
larly " licensed," members of the middle class were allowed 
to preach with permission of the Faculty. "There is some- 
thing of a revival among my little flock; five or six are hop- 
ing in Christ, and many are anxious. You would be inter- 
ested could you see them, after I have closed my meeting, 
come around me and express their affection for me. Last 
Sabbath evening they came clustering around me, and some, 
with tears, who have lately obtained hopes of eternal life, 
declared that my preaching to them was the means, under 
God, of awakening them; and when I saw one or two drunk- 
ards among them, I could hardly help weeping myself. Four 
families among them have lately commenced family prayers, 
and several are still anxious." 

"April 2d. 

"A student has lately come, perfectly blind, to become a 
minister. I go and read and converse with him an hour ev- 
ery day. He has imbibed an idea that my hour is more val- 
uable to him than any other one. I suppose it is because I 
feel most deeply for him." 

The reserve with which Mary Brace had at first received 
the abrupt addresses of the young student had long since 
given way, first to interest, and then to a more tender feel- 
ing ; and now, on the 5th of May, her eighteenth birthday, 
the two parties drew up and signed a formal contract of 
engagement, by which, " relying on the goodness of God 
through the merits of Christ," they " unhesitatingly gave 
themselves to each other, in the most solemn and tender 
manner in their power." The young lady was considered 
remarkably beautiful and attractive in person, manners, and 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 105 

character; and there had been not a few plans laid for her, 
and not a few attempts made to prejudice her and her 
friends against her poor lover; but his determined and per- 
sistent " readiness for any good work" had disconcerted and 
overcome her own and all other opposition, and, as usual, he 
won the day. Marriage was, of course, deferred " till cir- 
cumstances should render it convenient." 

The following Sabbath was spent in New Haven. "They 
have a very interesting Sabbath-school here, containing be- 
tween three and four hundred children. They fill the gal- 
leries of the Middle Church. I visited the school yesterday 
morning. The superintendent wished some one to address 
the scholars, after the lessons were recited. But no one 

would speak. J refused, M refused, C refused, 

a Princeton student refused because he was afraid of us 
Andoverians. So, after all, I had to do it myself. I told 
the children and teachers a short story, made them inter- 
ested, drew a practical inference or two, and sat down while 
all were standing tiptoe for more. I trust the impression 
was good. It was an interesting audience to address. You 
can scarce conceive how much pleasure I take in speaking to 
an audience on religion, owing partly to the agitations and 
hurry of the mind, to a sense of responsibility, to a full be- 
lief of the importance and consequences of the truth in ques- 
tion. Oh, how I shall delight to preach the Gospel to my 
fellow-beings, if God should spare my life and health !" This 
feeling accompanied him to the last. How often has he said 
that there was no study and no work like his, and that he 
would not, if he were to begin life again, change his choice 
on any account ! Every Sabbath morning he was happy in 
the anticipation of entering the pulpit, and felt it to be a 
trial ever to yield it to another. And even in old age, when 
friends had been remonstrating with him on account of his 
many labors, and had counseled rest, he exclaimed, when 
they were gone, " Oh, they do not know how I love to preach 
the Gospel !" 

From New Haven he started, with a classmate, on a short 
pedestrian tour for the benefit of his health. " On Saturday 
morning, at an early hour, in company with my old class- 
mate, Carrington, I left New Haven for the West. We 
looked very untheological, each swinging a heavy cane, and 



106 JOHN TODD. 

each fondling a bundle of clothes under his arm, frequently 
shifting them from one arm to the other, as if unwilling to 
deny either arm so great a pleasure. Our first stage brought 
us to Derby, where we breakfasted. We stopped several 
times in Huntington, and arrived at Mr. Lee's, in Munroe, 
at dinner, sixteen miles from New Haven. The morning- 
was fair, the country delightfully pleasant, all in the beauty 
of its bloom; we were on foot, independently at leisure, and 
enjoyed our walk very much. Carrington, though an odd 
sort of mortal, is a person of sound, sterling talents, fre- 
quently shrewd in his remarks, and always agreeable to a 
friend. Mr. Lee was writing a sermon, but broke off during 
my stay. My short visit there was very pleasant. Here I 
left Carrington for a day or two, when I expect him on to 
see me, and then we shall take up our line of march and go 
farther. From Munroe to this place (Weston) I walked 
alone, and arrived here before night, exceedingly tired, hav- 
ing walked about thirty miles during the day. I intended 
to ride a part of the way, but meeting with no opportunity, 
I pressed forward, as I always do, and accomplished my de- 
sign, and arrived at my old home, where I was welcomed 
by two as affectionate sisters as you could wish. You will 
presume, then, that when I awoke on Sabbath morning I 
did not feel in the best health and spirits. Mr. Osborne 
lives about a mile from meeting, so I rode with the girls. 
On arriving, we found the minister was out of town, so there 
was no way but I must preach. I w T as not dressed very 
much like a reverend, but hoped they would forget the man 
in the preacher. I talked all day, and attended a Bible-class 
of young ladies at noon, where I talked about an hour, prov- 
ing to them that the Bible was inspired. You may imagine 
that by night I was somewhat exhausted. I can not say 
how the good people in this enlightened place were pleased 
with their preacher, though one of my acquaintances hinted 
to me that since I went to Andover I have lost in animation 
what I have gained in logical correctness. To-day I am 
resting, though I am shortly going out on a visit. You must 
now imagine me at the place which for two years I have 
called Osborneville. Your imagination will paint a fine 
white house, about the size and appearance of yours, with 
a beautiful door-yard, rich shrubbery, etc. Back of the 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 107 

house is a steep hill, from which you have a delightful pros- 
pect over a rich, extensive vale beneath. This side-hill sup- 
ports a thriving fruit-yard, where apples, pears, peaches, and 
grapes are found in abundance in the autumn. I feel well 
acquainted with each tree, having very narrowly examined 
the character of each when I resided here. In front of the 
house, about fifty yards distant, is a lovely winding stream, 
where I used to go fishing with great success. You can 
throw your eyes in no direction without meeting with what 
is lovely and charming. Truly, this would be a most de- 
lightful spot, were the society in any degree equal to its 
natural scenery. Entering, you see me seated in my sister's 
parlor, where we have a little fire. The room is much like 
your parlor. Sisters Susan and Phebe are sitting beside me 
with their white needle-work. The room is still, save the 
unwearied ticking of the clock, and my watch, with its silk- 
en chain, lying before me, and the noise of my pen, as it 
scrawls this long sheet of nonsense. You see your humble 
servant sitting, very dignified, in the rocking-chair, with a 
sprig of the flowering almond and the lily of the valley in 
my bosom, thinking of a friend at some distance hence. By- 
the-bye, I wish you would procure some of these flowers for 
your garden. I admire them very much, as I do almost all 
kinds of flowers. 

"I staid at Weston, writing and visiting, till Thursday 
morning, when, in company with Carrington, I left for Dan- 
bury. We went through a wild, romantic place, known by 
the name of 'The Devil's Den.' It is a cluster of shaggy, 
uncivilized hills, thrown together here and there, sine online. 
There are two frowning hills stretching along parallel with 
one another for some miles. They stand close together, as 
if in the attitude of defiance. We stopped at Reading, where 
we visited a Mr. Bartlett (minister), a Squire Sanford, an in- 
telligent, reading, visit-loving justice of the peace, a Doctor 
Davis (physician), etc. At the last place I found Mrs. Davis 
to be a remarkably curious woman. As soon as she learned 
my name, and that Timothy Todd was my father, she raised 
both hands, as if in transport, and declared that I must stay 
with them a month. She would hardly take 'No 'for an 
answer. Here we dined, having walked eight or ten miles. 
Our next stage brought us to Danbury, eight miles from 



108 JOHN TODD. 

Reading. This is a wicked but interesting place. There is 
a revival here at the present time. On Friday I returned to 
Weston, leaving Carrington to assist in the revival. I found 
myself not a little fatigued, and nearly sick with a cold; but, 
notwithstanding all this, I could not be excused by my friends 
from executing a plan which they had formed during my 
absence. So on Saturday morning I took Mr. Osborne's 
horse and chaise, and set out for Guilford, which I reached 
just at sunset, much fatigued, having ridden between fifty 
and sixty miles. I found my friends all well. I returned 
by way of North Guilford, for the purpose of calling on a 
cousin whom I had not seen for a long time. Monday even- 
ing finds me again in New Haven. I am now about return- 
ing to Weston, where I am to confine myself for a week 
closely to my writing. I am sorry to find that my friends 
in Guilford and elsewhere in this region are forming too 
high expectations of me — higher than I can ever meet. It 
is in vain that I tell them I know nothing, and have but 
medium talents; they still persist in their loud demands for 
my exertions. If I am well, I may, by unremitted exertions, 
do something toward being what they expect; but if my 
health fails, these exertions will soon lay me in my grave. I 
know of no young man who has such a numerous circle of 
friends and acquaintances, all looking at him and expecting 
much. Pushed on thus, I must rise and be very respectable 
in my day, or find an early repose in death." 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 109 



CHAPTER VIII. 

LIFE AT ANDOVER COnti?llied. 

A Day's Work. — Ill-health. — Steam-cars wanted.— A Trip to Cape Cod.— 
The Captain-doctor. — Mirth under Difficulties. — Plymouth Kock. — A Dis- 
pute with Conscience. — Determines to preach extempore. — In the Ed- 
itor's Chair. — Can not change Profession. — A promising young Man. — The 
Way clear. 

It was now June. The spring vacation was over, and the 
students were re-assembled, and at work. "If I give you 
the history of one day, I give you the memoirs of a week or 
summer. I rise at five in the morning, wash, clean my boots, 
brush my clothes, dust my books, etc., till six ; then attend 
prayers and breakfast till seven. At seven, walk for exer- 
cise till eight. From eight to half-past eight, secret devo- 
tion. From half- past eight till half- past twelve, severe 
study in theology. At half- past twelve, dinner till one. 
From one to two, read belles-lettres and polite literature. 
From two to five, study theology. From five to six, read 
'Butler's Analogy' to Plaisted, the blind student. At six, 
prayers, and tea till seven. From seven to eight, walk for 
exercise, or visit my fellow-students. From eight to nine I 
usually attend some society. From nine to ten, read French 
or write letters. At ten, prayers till half-past ten. From 
half-past ten till eleven, secret devotion. Thus passes my 
day. If you could enter my room now you would find me 
sitting at my high, light-blue desk, mounted on a three-leg- 
ged chair, which I call a tripod. My desk is large, being- 
three and a half feet long and three wide. It holds my 
books that I use daily, and is covered with soft baize on 
which I write. Our taste has furnished each of us with a 
tumbler in which we keep flowers — roses, sweet-briers, and 
pinks. I change the water every morning, and bring home 
some buds almost every time I walk. There is one high hill, 
about two miles from the seminary, which I love to climb, 
and sit on its top all alone after sunset. It gives a prospect 
of a wide extent of barren country, but it is a delightful 



110 JOHN TODD. 

place to sit and think of this world and the next, and to 
think of the great God." 

Five or six weeks of hard study in summer weather be- 
gan to produce serious effects. " For the last ten days my 
health has been quite feeble. I know not that it can be im- 
puted to any cause, unless it be too severe study for the last 
six or eight months. I am considerably debilitated, with 
but little strength, and an appetite far from ravenous. There 
is a general sinking of the system, too frequently forbidding 
my being about, or far from my bed. In order to benefit 
my health, toward the close of last week I rode out to Bos- 
ton with a friend. Visited in the families of Mr. Osgood, 
Major Adams, and Mr. Foster. They carefully nursed me, 
and I received from each hand a heavy potion of wormwood 
tea, or elixir pro, or aloes, or some delectables, which I con- 
sidered myself bound to take, out of politeness. They were 
exceedingly kind to me, walked with me, sailed on the lake 
with me, and carried me to hear their Unitarian ministers, 
etc. I returned to the seminary yesterday, better in health, 
as I think, and sat up yesterday more than any day for some 
time. My physician gives me bark and wine. Our profess- 
ors here advise me to take a long journey immediately, 
and are even urgent. On the whole, I think it best to try 
to stay, taking as good care of my health as possible. But 
if I come to the conclusion that I must leave or die, I shall 
leave at once. One of the professors lately said to one of 
my classmates, 'Your Mr. Todd has a strong, a powerful 
mind, but I fear he is not long for this world.' This may be 
true, but it did not frighten me in the least, as I know my 
own constitution better than the professor. I believe I am 
sjettino better." 

In her anxiety about his health, his betrothed replied : 
"How convenient for us it would be were there a steam- 
boat from Boston to Hartford, as there is to New York ! I 
have not yet heard of any land vehicle propelled by steam, 
but I presume I shall before long. If any such invention is 
made, I hope that the conveyance will be more safe than by 
water, for we have heard of so many accidents to steamboats 
of late that I should almost fear to travel in one." 

A week later the overworked student was again com- 
pelled to try to recruit his exhausted strength. "During 



LIFE A T AND VER. , \ \ ] 

the last week my health failed so fast that the physician 
said that I must leave, or have a fit of sickness. Thinking- 
it not most desirable to be sick under the sound of the bell, 
and the constant calling of the students, I proposed to two 
of my classmates, Jacob Abbott and Josiah Brewer, to go 
off with me. They are both superior characters. On Fri- 
day morning, then, we early seated ourselves in a stage for 
Boston, I being admirably prepared for my tour, having 
been awake all night by headache and vomiting, and hav- 
ing fainted away once after rising ; but perseverance is not 
easily checked. Having wrapped myself in my old cloak, 
I reached Boston very comfortably about 11 a.m. Here I 
lay in the Commercial Coffee-house, and slept, or drank soda- 
water, most of the afternoon, not being smart enough to 
make more than one call. In the evening we took packet 
for Yarmouth. I was in hopes, especially as it was windy 
and stormy, that I should be sea-sick ; but no such event 
happened. We had seven or eight passengers, and but 
four berths, so Abbott and myself wrapped ourselves in our 
cloaks, and lay on the deck. The air was cold and damp, 
and for that reason seemed refreshing to my feverish frame. 
I can hardly tell you how we passed the long night. Suf- 
fice it to say that it blew hard, the waves swelled proudly, 
the water around the prow phosphoresced, we came near 
getting on a reef of rocks and oversetting in a sudden gale, 
etc., etc., which are common incidents on this, coast. Hav- 
ing stood it through the night, the morning was but a little 
more tolerable. Every thing below was dirty and sicken- 
ing, and every thing on deck was wet and cold. Abbott 
was sea-sick, Brewer was afraid, Todd sick with a fever. To 
amuse myself, I put a piece of white rag on a hook, threw it 
over, and soon caught a fine large mackerel. I felt sorry for 
the poor fellow, to be so duped by a rag ; but as he is not 
the first who has been gulled, I gave him to the steward to 
cook for my breakfast, but was too sick to eat him. We 
arrived at Yarmouth, a sail of about eighty miles, in a lit- 
tle more than twelve hours. Here we were in new trouble. 
It rained hard, and Ave must walk nearly two miles to get 
to a boarding-house. So, calling a council of three, we very 
gravely deliberated the matter, and came to a unanimous 
resolution not to stay in our ark any longer. This was 



112 JOHX TODD. 

scholar -like prudence. The result was that we got com- 
pletely wet, and I took a violent cold. Our house of ren- 
dezvous was kept by a Captain Gray, a plump, hardy, weath- 
er-beaten old son of Neptune. What next was to be done? 
A second council was held (in which, you see, I could only 
have one vote), to decide upon my health, which was pro- 
nounced to be iccmting. There was no physician near, say 
within forty miles, whom we dared trust; so we concluded 
that the old sea-captain should be the doctor; Abbott and 
Brewer to superintend, and I the patient. There was no 
way but for me to submit with as much grace as I could 
muster (and even the old captain said he never saw a man 
take medicine more courageously), and indeed my pains by 
this time were so great and many that I concluded they 
could not be made worse. So at seven o'clock Sabbath 
evening I took I know not w T hat as an emetic. It operated 
in ten minutes, and continued to tear me till eleven o'clock — 
by far the most powerful I ever took. Abbott and Brewer 
very sagely concluded that it must do me a vast deal of 
good, as it was so powerful. I agreed, provided, it would be 
content to stop before it took me with it." 

In recalling this scene, Rev. Mr. Abbott has described his 
unfortunate fellow-voyager's disposition in terms which will 
at once remind many of Doctor Todd as he was in later life. 
" He was at that time, though famed for his witty and satir- 
ical sayings, one of the gravest and most sober men that I 
ever knew. He never seemed to laugh himself, though he 
occasioned a great deal of laughter in others, and this not 
merely through the incongruity and drollery of his ideas, 
but by the very serious and sedate manner in w r hich he ut- 
tered them. On this night, for example, while he lay toss- 
insr and oroanin^ on his bed, showing a face with as exa^- 
gerated an expression of distress as he could throw into it, 
w r hat he said and did produced so comical an effect that Mr. 
Brewer and myself were obliged often to go out of the room 
to recover from our fits of laughter, and I was kept for hours 
in a most curious state between pitying his sufferings and 
laughing at his wit." 

"My landlady was a large, coarse, deaf fisher- woman, so my 
only nurse w r as my captain-doctor and my fellow-students. 
This medicine left me weak and exhausted, but in full pos- 



LIFE A T AND VER. 1 1 3 

session of all my pain. On Sabbath morning they concluded 
(for I was now too sick to vote, and so the captain filled my 
place) that I must breakfast on calomel and dine on jalap — 
the captain -doctor to deal the medicines. I ventured to 
suggest that he might not know how to adapt such power- 
ful medicines to my constitution ; but he raised a loud laugh 
at my ignorance in not knowing that 'a sea-captain has the 
care of the medicine-chest, and knows all about it.' From 
that time till dark I was in full possession of the benefits to 
be derived from his medical skill. His medicine acted as 
powerfully as my worst enemies could wish ; and what was 
worse, I was faint, but could not keep down any thing to 
give me strength. This lasted till evening. My compan- 
ions went to hear a Unitarian preacher, who proved to them 
most indubitably that men are not depraved, from the fact 
that we have a conscience. I kept close to my bed, being un- 
able to sit up, the captain being my nurse. I received no re- 
lief from my pain till morning. I then found myself mostly 
free from pain, free from fever, free from strength, and as 
limber as a French dancing-master. The fact of the whole 
seems to be that I had the foundation laid for a severe fever, 
that this captain-doctor, measuring his medicines by the ro- 
bust constitution of a sailor, gave me at least twice as much 
as my physician would have done, and broke up the fever. 
On Tuesday I walked out, and made several visits in order 
to learn the character of the people. Wednesday morning 
was our appointed time to leave on our return. We decided 
on sending our trunk by water to Boston, and returning by 
land. Accordingly we set out on foot Wednesday morning, 
and with a slow march wandered along the coast, gazing at 
every thing we saw, and imagining many things which we 
could not see. We stopped and bathed at every conven- 
ient place, which was very refreshing, but one of them came 
near being dangerous. Abbott and myself procured each 
of us a plank, and while Brewer was hovering around the 
shore we sailed out of a creek to try our comparative nau- 
tical skill. We sailed bravely until we arrived at the mouth 
of the creek, when a strong current set in, and shot us out 
into the ocean. Our poor vessels were soon placed beyond 
the length of our setting-poles, and of course were wholly 
unmanageable. We had nothing to do but plunge and 

8 



114 JOHN TODD. 

swim ; and as we both are tolerably good swimmers, we 
stemmed the tide bravely, and soon regained our starting- 
point, to the great joy of poor Brewer, who looked rather 
wild on the occasion. I thought but little of it, as I have 
been in greater danger of drowning at least a thousand 
times. We walked eight miles only in the forenoon. In 
Mr. Fish's congregation in Marshpee are about four hundred 
Indians ; some of them are pious. He has two deacons, and 
one of them is a full-blooded Indian. In the afternoon we 
walked eight miles farther to Sandwich. We enjoyed it 
exceedingly ; and while our sedate Brother Brewer would 
stalk along with all the perpendicular dignity of a vicar, 
Abbott and myself would stop in almost every house, beg a 
drink of water, and study the character and manners of the 
people. I was much pleased with them. They were sim- 
ple, open, frank, and very kind. At Sandwich we passed the 
night. The next day we had a dreary walk to Plymouth. 
You have doubtless heard much of the Plymouth Rock. 
And, pray, what do you suppose it to be? Do you suppose 
it a large, flat, romantic rock, stretching off into the water, 
large enough to contain one hundred and one pilgrims — a 
rock venerated, marked, notable, conspicuous ? So had I im- 
agined ! But, alas ! non itafuit. Imagine us walking down 
a narrow, dirty street, with an Indian boy for a guide, all go- 
ing down toward the water to see the Forefathers' Rock. 
Imagine Brewer to be striding on with his huge steps for- 
ward of the rest, all stretching our eyes to see the rock. 
Now we are all silent, expecting every moment the rock to 
burst upon the vision; now we come to the wharf, and just 
as we are entering the wharf, among tar-barrels, molasses, 
salt, and codfish, Brewer stalks over a flat rock about four 
feet square, just on a level with the ground. Todd exclaims, 
i Siste, I pray this be not the rock!' with great vehemence. 
The little Indian rolls his dark eyes, and cries, 'Dat be him.' 
We all stop and look. This, then, is the rock ! on a wharf, 
covered with dirt, run over a hundred times every day with 
carts and horses ! Oh, how unromantic ! It was originally 
about eight feet square, but half of it has been broken off 
and carried np to the court-house to preserve. It was so 
hammered and pecked that we could not get a piece to 
bring away. But we were sadly disappointed, and most 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 115 

sagely agreed that whenever we took upon us to say we 
had seen the rock on which the Pilgrims landed, it would 
not be judicious to describe it. We next visited the grave- 
yard. Here we found grave-stones inscribed 1690, but no 
one knows where one of the Pilgrims lies. On Saturday we 
returned, having been absent one week and one day. I find 
my health improved since my return, yet it is feeble. My 
stomach is such a quarrelsome fellow, it wrangles with ev- 
ery thing I eat; but I hope soon to bring it to a sense of 
propriety. It so happened that at every tavern at which 
we stopped they were Universalists, and they all learned 
where we were from, and charged us enormously. So that 
though we carried eleven dollars each, yet we had barely 
enough to get back. The pleasures I receive from traveling 
are unusually great; for my characteristic boldness and ar- 
dency (and some will add, address) carry me at once among 
all classes of people. I study all kinds of character, and see 
all I can. This study of original character is what I pecul- 
iarly delight in." 

"August 23d. 
" It was Thursday, about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, 
that I was sitting at my writing-desk, thinking of you. 
'Come, come !' says old Mr. Conscience, 'you must commit 
your piece to memory, which you have to speak at two 
o'clock in the chapel.' 'Oh yes, Mr. Conscience, but it is a 
great while since I have heard from Mary: let me just look 
at her last letter. Now, then, old friend, isn't this a pretty 
letter?' 'Your speech, your speech!' 'In a moment; but 
just let me look at that letter in which the girl told me, for 
the first time, that she loved me — only a minute !' So I be- 
gan to read that letter, and the next, and the next. 'Stop, 
stop!' cried Conscience, ' you'll be disgraced ! your piece !' 
'In a moment, sir; let me just read our engagement, and 
her next letter. Ah, here is a good letter, old Quiz — a very 
fine letter !' ' Nonsense, nonsense ! commit your piece !' 
' Oh yes, but doesn't she write good letters ?' ' Your piece !' 
'Ay, but doesn't she gradually show how she loves me bet- 
ter and better?' ' Your piece ! your piece !' ' Yes, but this 
is a sweet girl; how I wish I could see the creature!' 
'Hold!' cries Conscience, 'your piece is not committed; the 
dinner-bell rings, and you must speak at two, before the 



116 JOHN TODD. 

seminary ! See what your foolish love costs you !' ' Right, 
right, Mr. Conscience ; but she is a lovely girl, say what you 
will, as the dozen letters I have just read prove.' Here the 
dialogue closed, and I went to dinner while old Conscience 
took a nap. After one o'clock Brother Howe comes in. 
' Do be well prepared, Brother Todd ; we are to have a host 
of ladies to hear you.' 'Ah, I have not committed a word 
of my piece !' 'Ay, ay, I told you so,' says Conscience, just 
waking up ; ' I told you that you would be disgraced.' ' Be 
still, Mr. Conscience, I will go to work ; but — she is a fine 
girl !' So, pulling off my coat, I took to my work — forgot 
you, forgot every thing. The bell rings. 'Ah, now for it !' 
cries my old tormentor. ' Cease, Conscience, let me alone !' 
I go in ; the ladies are there ; I mount the stage, go through 
without tripping, without hesitating. They listen silently, 
and I come off well. ' See now, old fool of a Conscience !' 
I say, ' see how I have got along, and thought of Mary 
too.' ' Yes, but you are too bold, too daring ; you may one 
day get yourself into difficulty with this foolish love of 
yours !' ' Never, never, old friend ; but don't say any thing 
more about this escape : she is a sweet girl.' " 

" September 6th. 

" I have concluded to take a room at Doctor Woods's 
next year, and for these reasons : I can write sermons to 
much better advantage, and study much more profitably, 
than if in the seminary. If I am sick, I shall be near Mrs. 
Woods, who is very kind, and a skillful nurse, which would 
be no small consideration, if I should be as I have been 
much of this summer. The expense of rooms there will be 
considerable, but I had rather economize in something else 
than forego the advantage of rooming alone senior year. 
My room will be convenient, large, and very comfortable. 
I will read you my first sermon when I see you, and you 
may criticise it, for it needs it. As to committing sermons 
to memory, I shall not do it. I intend to preach extem- 
poraneously half of the time after I am settled, and half 
of the time written sermons. My extempore sermons will 
probably consist in part of exegesis. I am persuaded that 
no man can be really eloquent very frequently who is 
wholly confined to notes." 

As soon as vacation arrived, he naturally started for Con- 



LIFE A T AND VER. ' 117 

necticut ; but he was hindered by the way. " I had got as 
far as Boston, when I was stopped by the editor of the Tele- 
graph." The Boston Telegraph was a religious newspaper, 
started but a little while before by Gerard Hallock. It 
was soon afterward merged in the Boston Recorder. " He 
pleaded with me so hard, that I consented to take the edi- 
torial chair for a short time. I have just got out one paper 
this morning, and must now go to work on another. I am 
constantly expecting Hallock to return ; but I neither know 
where he has gone or when he comes. You may fancy me 
cooped up in the counting-room of the Telegraph office, sur- 
rounded by seventy different kinds of newspapers constantly 
pouring in, with letters and pamphlets, and company, etc. 
Every evening I am dragged into meeting iiolens vole?is, and 
last Sabbath I preached twice in the new society of this 
city. So, you see, I am busy, and see much good company, 
and have fine things said to me. As to pecuniary profits, I 
know not what Hallock will give me, but should presume 
he can not afford to give me such a compensation as that I 
can save much. My board is one dollar per day, exclusive 
of washing. Should the Boston people undertake to make 
me an editor of some work, ought I to think of accepting ? 
I say No. I wish to preach the Gospel, and I don't wish to 
think of any other business. I mention this because hints 
have been thrown out, and I have determined, before con- 
sulting even you, to say I want no other employment be- 
sides the Gospel. I intend to undertake no other." 

In about a fortnight he was released by the return of Mr. 
Hallock, and again started for Connecticut. But again he 
was overtaken by duty. " I am in Hartford, on business, 
important business for Mrs. Lee " [his old friend, Mrs, Doctor 
Lee, of Colebrook]. " She has lately sold some property in 
New London. I am now dispatched to collect the money 
and settle the business. So, you see, if I can't get a living 
by preaching, I may by being sheriff. My circumstances 
make me turn my hand to almost any thing ; but I care not, 
as it teaches me to do business, to see society, to be placed 
in different situations, to see men and manners in all their 
varieties." 

In Colebrook, "on the Sabbath I preached twice. The 
audience was very full and very attentive. It does not be- 



118 JOHN TODD. 

come me to say whether or not they were interested. The 
people here look upon me as a kind of Colebrook man, and 
almost claim me as theirs. My friends here seem to have 
increasing expectations of me, and continue to call me ' the 
promising young man ;' but it is these very expectations 
that often make me shrink. It is not a good thing for a 
young man to enter the world under a full tide of expecta- 
tion, and a wide circle of acquaintance. Perhaps no one of 
my acquaintance has more eyes upon him than myself. 
Perhaps, too, here and there one, like our mutual friend Mrs. 

D , would rejoice to see me fail and come to nothing. I 

am a proud creature, and my feelings are all as deep as the 
seat of life. I do not feel discouraged, but feel solicitous. 
My father fell under a heavy blow of Providence ; he fell in 
the morning of life. The same stroke crushed my mother, 
and I was born an orphan, shelterless, penniless. I was 
but six years old when I knelt over my father's grave, and 
vowed, even then, to rise above my circumstances. I soon 
determined to have a liberal education. My friends op- 
posed, obstacles were thrown in my way, every thing op- 
posed. I rose above all; I went to college, half-fitted; I 
was sick much of the time, owing to too severe application 
and anxiety; I pressed on, rose above all, and now stand 
where I can see my way clear." 



LIFE AT AND OVER 11 



CHAPTER IX. 

life at and over — continued. 

Doctor Eli Todd. — The new Librarian.— A Pseudo -Baptist. —Answers Him- 
self. — A wise Professor. — An anonymous Letter. — Vanity. — Licensed by 
Professors. — The first Preaching. — Competitors for Valedictory. — Dan- 
gers at the Seminary. — The Christian Almanac. — Wanted for Palestine. — 
The Hawk and the Jay. — Two Orators. — Doctor Griffin. —Fanny Fern. — 
A religious Fourth.— The Association at Dedham.— The Oration at Park 
Street. — An awful Question. — A beautiful Prayer. 

Having been appointed librarian at Andover for the com- 
ing year, it was necessary for him to be promptly at his 
post ; and so, after three or four weeks spent among his old 
friends in Litchfield and Fairfield counties, he set out on his 
return, by way, of course, of Newington and Hartford. At 
the latter place "I walked out to see Doctor Todd, at the Re- 
treat. I was received with great politeness, my name being 
a passport to their good graces. I should think the doctor 
possessed a mind quick, inquisitive, independent, daring, and 
skeptical. He seemed to be well acquainted with the char- 
acter of my father, whom he seems to have greatly respected, 
and perhaps from the fact that many traits in their charac- 
ters are alike. He says my father was an ambitious man, 
but had character to stand on ; and adds that, had he not 
met with that calamity which brought him to an untimely 
grave, ' there is no doubt but he would have been governor 
of Vermont in two or three years.' You may think me 
childish for mentioning this, but the memory of my dear 
father is all I have to cherish. 

"I find the library in excellent order, and my duties as 
librarian will be lighter than I expected. I am not necessi- 
tated to go in, except on particular occasions, and then I 
charge a shilling per hour for all the time it takes me. It is 
a delightful place to practice speaking or reading aloud. I 
am very glad I have the office. I am also librarian for the 
Athenaeum: — a reading-room — which makes me some trouble 
with but little profit. Perhaps you would think me some- 



120 JOHN TODD. 

thing of a man could you see how busy I am, out of study 
hours, in fulfilling the duties of some of my nine different 
public offices. But all these duties help to render me accu- 
rate, quick to dispatch business, and prompt at any thing in 
hand. We have a general meeting of the seminary at the 
commencement of every new year. In this meeting all the 
committees, officers, collectors, etc., are appointed for the 
year. There are about ten or fifteen different committees. 
At our late meeting Todd was called to the chair as moder- 
ator, and Mood as recorder. The nomination of all the vari- 
ous committees fell upon me. I went through it as well as 
I could, and, as far as I know, to the satisfaction of all con- 
cerned. I believe I am as strange a compound of feeling 
and delicacy, combined with boldness and decision of char- 
acter, as ever lived." 

" December 4th. 

"My class are now on the subject of baptis m, and as we 
have no Baptists in my class, I have been appointed by the 
class to be a Baptist during the discussion. I have accord- 
ingly begun a dissertation in favor of the Baptist tenets, in 
which I have advocated (I.) That infants can not be proved 
to be proper subjects of baptism ; (II.) That immersion is the 
only true mode of baptism ; (III.) That close communion 
ought to be practiced. I am sorry, on the whole, that I was 
appointed, for several reasons: (l.) I have taken hold with 
so strong a hand, that Doctor Woods will feel suspicious of 
me, lest I believe the tenets of the Baptists. (2.) It does not 
have a good effect upon the mind to be so placed as to de- 
fend what you do not believe. (3.) It will be as much work 
as to write four good sermons, but will not be as useful to 
me. (4.) We are so constituted that we retain an objection, 
while we forget its answer; and thus the mind is left in con- 
tinued doubts, where there should be none. Miss H says 

if I will become a Baptist minister, Mr. P will give me 

the right hand of fellowship with all pleasure imaginable. 
I fear, however, that I am too much tied down to the good 
old opinions of my fathers easily to surrender my faith at 
the first sound of the trumpet." 

" December 24th. 

"After my appointment, I sat down to the business, and 
in a week wrote my dissertation against baptizing infants 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 121 

and children. At the close of that time I read it before ray- 
class. It took me fully fifty minutes to read it. I had given 
myself to the subject, and entered into it with my accus- 
tomed ardor of feeling. It evidently produced a great ex- 
citement in the class. After I had resumed my seat, Doctor 
Woods did me the honor to say I had ' pleaded the cause 
of the Baptists better than they ever did themselves.' My 
' ground was bold, my reasoning specious, and out of the 
common course.' The professor then said the dissertation 
must be answered — that the class might appoint a man to 
do it, or he would do it himself. The class met, and nomi- 
nated me to answer it. I declined, for I was wearied with 
severe study. They then referred it to the professor to ap- 
point some one. The doctor immediately sent for me to his 
house, and said I must turn upon myself, and answer my 
own dissertation. I tried to beg off, but he insisted, so I 
took the appointment. This was Monday. The class all 
suspended their regular studies till I got my dissertation 
done. Again I sat down, and for a week I studied from 
daylight till after midnight. On Monday I again read, in 
favor of infant baptism. My piece was one hour and twenty 
minutes, as fast as I could read. It was a piece on which I 
had laid out my strength. Great expectations were excited 
in the seminary while I was at work, and I feel peculiarly 
happy in saying that I believe these expectations were met. 
I believe every man felt as if I had taken grounds from 
which I could not be shaken. Doctor Woods did me the 
peculiar honor, after I had finished it, to request me to pre- 
sent him a copy to keep — a thing which he has never been 
known to do before. But, as I have no time or disposition 
to copy it, I fear he will never receive it. The essay has 
not been in my hands since, but in the hands of different 
members of the seminary, who are copying it. I presume at 
least fifty copies will be taken. I have been urged by sev- 
eral of my brethren to publish it, but I shall not do it. I 
am too young to publish at present. Now, from what I 
have said, I fear you will infer two things : first, that this 
business has made me vain, which I assure you is not cor- 
rect; and, secondly, that my piece is very extraordinary, 
which is not so. It is good, it is able, but nothing very 
extraordinary; for no piece that was wholly planned and 



122 JOHN TODD. 

written in five days can be very great. The exertion of 
these two weeks was so great as to make me sick. My 
nerves had been so excited during the time that I was writ- 
ing, that after the excitement was over I was quite unstrung 
and quite low-spirited. I have now got over it, and have 
come out quite strongly — not a Baptist!" 

The last sentence was not without meaning. His enforced 
advocacy of Baptist tenets had, as appears from his remarks 
upon it already quoted, produced a temporary effect upon 
his own mind. Nearly fifty years later he wrote: "Doc- 
tor Woods read human nature admirably. I recollect that 
when my class came to the subject of baptism, there not 
happening to be any brother in the class, we appointed one 
to present the Baptist side of the question. This he did, 
and so strongly, that the professor desired to have a man 
appointed to reply. The class concurred, but referred the 
appointment back to him. He immediately appointed the 
same man to meet his own arguments. , This wisdom of 
Doctor Woods not unlikely saved the young man from tak- 
ing sides and becoming a Baptist." 

"December 11th. 

"As I can keep nothing from you, I must transcribe a 
short note lately put into my hands. It reads thus : 

" ' My dear Todd, — Mahomet says that he had one drop 
of black blood in his heart, and that when the angel had 
squeezed out this drop he was holy. Idem tibi dico. That 
you have accomplished manners, that you have a pleas- 
ing address, I know; and that the talents which God has 
given you are far superior to any of our class, there can 
be no doubt ; and, with one exception, you are certainly the 
most perfect man I have ever met with. This exception is, 
too bold, too independent feelings. I do not say you want 
humility; I think otherwise; but you need more of the ap- 
pearance of doubting your powers in those cases where none 
can doubt them. Alter in this respect, and you will do 
more for the Church of God than ten common men. 

" ' One who loves you no less than 
he respects you.' 

"You may think that this is mere flattery, but I know 
whom it came from, and know it is every word sincere. The 
writer is truly a friend of mine, and puts more confidence in 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 123 

me than in all the rest of our class. I am aware of the evil 
to which he alludes, and told you of it when I saw you, and 
suppose you have seen something of it. But I will try to 
mend, and, with the assistance of God, I have no fear that 
you will ever have just reason to be ashamed of me." 

No man, probably, ever accomplished much who had not 
this consciousness of, and confidence in, his own powers — a 
consciousness- which is allied to, and perhaps always mixed 
with, more or less vanity. Mr. Todd had gauged his own 
talents so well, that he could not doubt his own powers, and 
he was too honest to put on " an appearance of doubting" 
which did not exist. 

But if this self-consciousness was sometimes too apparent, 
it was relieved by a beautiful humility, and readiness to 
listen to suggestion even from a child. This is apparent in 
his remarks on the anonymous letter just quoted. In one 
of the later years of his life, one of the editors of the Gon- 
gregationalist wrote to him, offering a criticism upon a point 
in a sermon of his then just published. His immediate reply 
was : " Your criticism in regard to an unguarded expression 
in the sermon is just. I meant simply, etc. We can't al- 
ways guard as we would." " It interested me," writes the 
editor, "that Doctor Todd, though a man of very wide rep- 
utation, and venerable in years, should so readily accept a 
suggestion from one so much younger as myself. And I am 
happy to add that I always found him a most comfortable 
man to deal with ; the difference between him and many other 
contributors to oar paper was quite marked in this respect." 
As a further illustration of the same characteristic, it may be 
added that in the height of his power he not unfrequently 
submitted a production for which he felt specially solicitous 
to the criticism of his son, and always considered with the 
greatest care, and frequently followed, in one or two cases 
even to the entire recasting of a plan, the suggestions of his 
boy. One of his striking utterances on his death-bed was, 
"The last sin that I shall leave behind me on earth is — van- 
ity." Very likely there was justice in this self-condemna- 
tion. ~No man ever more accurately took the gauge of his 
own character as well as abilities, and knew himself better. 
But it may be questioned whether in this instance his con- 
scientiousness did not, to some extent at least, mistake for 



124 JOHN TODD. 

vanity what was really only self-knowledge and self-confi- 
dence. 

" Friday my class observed as a day of fasting and prayer, 
as a previous preparation to our being licensed by the pro- 
fessors. These licenses we received last evening, so that I 
am now a licensed preacher according to the laws of this 
seminary. To-morrow evening I expect to preach in the 
chapel, and it would afford me great pleasure could I know 
that you were then praying for me. I expect a full house, 
if the weather is good, as there is no small desire to hear 
me. Oh, it is a great work to preach the Gospel, and to do 
it with faithfulness ! Most earnestly do I beg you to pray 
for me, that my preparation may be complete. 

" The Sabbath after I last wrote, I preached in the chapel, 
as I expected. My audience was large, and I was so suc- 
cessful as to gain more approbation and compliments than 
I could have expected, even with my natural share of van- 
ity. 

"Doctor Woods lately called on me, and said he wished 
me not to make any engagements for next fall at present, 
until he had some talk with me. By this I mistrusted that 
he wishes me to go on an agency for the Board of Missions, 
to the South, as I presume. These suspicions were confirmed 
by having Mr. Evarts make the same remark to me when I 
was in Boston. I should very much dread to have them ap- 
ply to me to be an agent. I know that it is the duty of 
somebody to do it ; I think it a good and honorable employ- 
ment; and yet I should shrink from it. Not but that I could 
beg and get them money — I should have no fear of this kind 
— but I should abhor to begin. 

"The subject of our valedictory begins to excite consider- 
able interest in the seminary, as it always does. It is not 
known who will have it. There have been, for more than 
a year, three candidates — Howe, Maltby, and Todd. These 
have been looked upon as a literary trio. But of late, Malt- 
by is pretty much dropped, and the struggle lies between 
Howe and Todd. I call it struggle, for so every thing of 
this kind is ever looked upon, though there could be no 
better feelings than exist between Howe and myself. The 
seminary are in doubt to which it will be given. The stu- 
dents look upon us thus: Howe is the best speaker; Todd, 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 125 

the best writer. Howe, the most polished by art; Todd, the 
greatest by nature. Howe, a man as perfect as art can make 
him ; Todd, as original as need be. The one has most ac- 
quired talent ; the other, the most genius. The one thinks 
correctly and beautifully; the other thinks strongly and pow- 
erfully. Howe has had much the greatest advantages, but 
seems nearly at his ne plus; Todd, the less favored in boy- 
hood in advantages, has a mind on a broader and deeper 
scale. The one is never heard without admiration ; the oth- 
er, never without attention and deep impression. The one 
takes the audience like a refined and skillful orator; the oth- 
er makes them feel themselves under the control of a mighty 
spirit. This is what the seminary think, and it is a matter 
of great doubt who has the valedictory. If, now, you ask 
my opinion, you shall have it. I think Howe will have the 
valedictory. It will not be known, however, till next term. 
I shall have no hard or unpleasant feelings, for it would 
make but little difference to myself. I have the honor of 
being universally considered the first man in my class, and 
probably the first in the seminary, and with that I am con- 
tent. I thought, however, I had better mention the subject 
to you, and tell you precisely how matters stand, lest you 
be disappointed if I do not have the said valedictory. If I 
have it, it will be well enough — let it come; but if I have it 
not, it probably never will make the difference of five dol- 
lars with me." 

The disadvantages of all this rivalry and intellectual ap- 
plication he was not slow to perceive. To his future father- 
in-law he writes: "Your classification of the dangers con- 
nected with our situation here is just. The plan of our 
course of study here is such, that the three years' discipline 
makes a man either a giant or a pedant. The greatest men 
we have here always belong to the junior class. But I have 
certainly met here with the most expanded and liberal 
minds, and minds, too, that can and do appreciate excellence 
of character wherever seen. As to the danger of decay of 
piety, it is greater than all other dangers united. All our 
impressions are received passively ; all the atmosphere is 
literary; all our exercises are subjected to criticism; all is 
intellect, speculation : nothing to draw out active piety. 
Our studies, too, are pressing, more pressing than I had an- 



126 JOHN TODD. 

ticipated. We have as many as six or eight irons in the 
lire continually. I write a sermon now and then as a relax- 
ation, and find it by far the most delightful of my employ- 
ments. But I suppose the sermons I write here will be 
considered by you as too abstract. I suppose they are so. 
I find it extremely difficult, after being cloistered up nine 
years in a literary atmosphere, to write such sermons as are 
best adapted to a common congregation ; but I hope this 
difficulty will be diminished, if not wholly annihilated, when 
I come to associate with men. Having lived in a city or 
seminary ever since I was thirteen, I hardly know how I 
should manage in a country parish. Although I do not look 
forward to the great work of life without much solicitude, 
nor to the momentous question of personal salvation with- 
out trembling, yet I most ardently long to be preaching 
the Gospel of Christ. For this I have toiled for years; to 
this I have devoted all my powers. The news of salvation 
through Jesus, whether you and I are partakers or not, is 
'glad tidings of great joy,' and I pray that we both may be 
faithful and devoted to the business of proclaiming it." 

" January 15th, 1825. 

" The Committee of the American Tract Society have ap- 
plied to me to be the editor of the 'Christian Almanac for 
1826.' I shall undertake it, provided my health is good 
enough. It is a good opportunity to speak to half a million 
of immortal beings, and I need not say it will bring upon 
me no small responsibility to do it well. 

"Last Wednesday, as a class, we had a day of fasting and 
prayer, in order to prepare our minds to decide, each for 
himself, whether or not it is his duty to become a foreign 
missionary. The ladies in Boston have funds to support a 
missionary in Palestine. My class all point to me as the in- 
dividual possessing the proper qualifications for this respon- 
sible station. Doctor Woods, who is the most perfect judge 
of character I ever met with, thinks decidedly, that, should 
I not go to Persia or Palestine, I ought to go to our own 
new country, where churches and societies are forming. I 
do not intend to be solicitous as to where I shall go, or what 
I shall do. Professor Stuart says my prospects for life are 
as promising as those of any young man he ever knew. I 
think it not unlikely it will be judicious for me to go to the 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 127 

South next winter, as my health hardly bears this cold weath- 
er. Doctor Murdock tells me that if I can get a berth in 
New Orleans, it will be the place for my talents. If I can 
be a faithful, devoted preacher of the Gospel of Christ, I 
care very little where I go." 

"February 5th. 

"At the close of the week I was not well, so I got into 
the stage for Boston, whence I returned on the Monday fol- 
lowing. On my return, I found S , of my class, in great 

distress, it being his duty to preach the Sabbath following ; 
and lo ! he had no sermon, and could get no one to take his 
place. This was Monday evening. What was to be done ? 
At his earnest request, I undertook to stand in his place. I 
immediately chose a subject, drew my plan, and on Wednes- 
day evening finished my sermon. I read it to a professor 
on Thursday morning, agreeably to the laws of the seminary, 
and it received his approbation ; so last Sabbath evening I 
preached it before the seminary and a crowded audience. 
It was forty minutes long, and decidedly the greatest effort 
I ever made at composition. It was received with breath- 
less attention, and has doue me an honor iu the eyes of the 
institution. 

" My poor almanac comes on very slowly. I have lately 
had a memoir of Thomas Hamitah Patoo (who died, in 1823, 
in Cornwall school) put into my hands to prepare for the 
press. It is not long, but I must rewrite it entirely, and, 
what is still worse, it is for the American Tract Society, who 
have no great appetite for compensating one according to 
the labor bestowed. 

"I was walking out, a few mornings since, in company 
with a friend — it was a clear, cold morning — when I saw 
a bird flying, about fifty rods distant. It was a blue jay. 
Presently I noticed a hawk coming very leisurely, and look- 
ing about for a breakfast. At once he dove down and struck 
the poor jay, which set up a most pitiful yell, as if already 
in the clutches of a hangman. The blow of Mr. Hawk broke 
a wing of Mr. Jay, and they both dropped toward the ground 
together. The hawk now seized the jay with his claws, and, 
in return, his friend Jay seized him also in his, at the same 
time keeping up a most dismal screaming. On seeing and 
hearing the poor jay, I dropped cloak, off hat, kicked off 



128 JOHN TODD. 

overshoes, jumped over the wall, which fell down as a kind 
of chorus, and away I ran to relieve neighbor Jay, for I can 
never bear to see oppression. Mr. Hawk, seeing me coming, 
undertook to be off; but no — the jay would not unclinch his 
claws and let him off, and the poor hawk (not having been 
to breakfast, and probably having lived rather abstemiously 
the day preceding), had not sufficient strength to fly off with 
his load ; and so, after running a good long stretch, I caught 
them both. It was my first feeling to kill the murderous 
hawk, and let his captive go free ; but I thought I would 
spare his life a while, in order to see their behavior; and 
truly I was much pleased to witness the difference in their 
dispositions. I brought them both up to the seminary, and 
introduced them into my room. The jay was a complete 
dandy, dressed in a light-blue coat, spotted vest, light small- 
clothes, red stockings, a full ruffle in his bosom, and a high 
hat, which he could take off or put on as he pleased ; his 
eve, small and black ; neck, long and slender. From the 
first moment of my catching him, he appeared to be the 
most ungrateful, uncivil, and ungentlemanly knave I ever 
met with, and withal a most arrant coward. He kept up 
an almost constant yell ; would try to pick out the hawk's 
eyes, would seize him by the throat ; and made no bones of 
biting me, his deliverer, every time he could. In short, he 
was a most contemptible, revengeful, malicious, rattle-headed, 
mean, cowardly creature, and could be excelled in villainy 
only by a dandy without feathers. I never met a more des- 
picable fellow — too cowardly to live, too mean to be killed. 
Monsieur Hawk, on the contrary, was a most dignified per- 
sonage. He was dressed in a plain, Quaker-like suit of gray 
— nothing shining or artificial about him; a large piercing 
eye, a short solid neck, a flat-crowned hat, and a true Roman 
nose finishes his picture. As soon as I caught him he show- 
ed a character really great. He looked me steadily in the 
eye, was calm, composed. He never opened his mouth to 
complain, as if he was afraid of suffering; never begged for 
life, as if a coward. When the jay would yell and peck at 
him, and try to pull out his eyes, he would only turn his 
head and look at him with a countenance so full of gravity 
and contempt, that I really felt small for the jay. More- 
over, he never tried to bite or scratch me ; and when I threat- 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 129 

ened him with death, he seemed to look at it with all the 
fortitude and composure of a Regulus. To be sure, he was 
caught in an act of aggressive warfare, but then he was 
driven by necessity, and he seemed to know what was really 
dignified. In a word, he behaved so much like a gentleman 
and a hero, and I admired his magnanimity so much, that, 
after bestowing many cautions and much sage advice (which 
he received with the most profound gravity and attention), 
I let him go out of my window. His greatness and noble- 
ness of demeanor was such that I had no heart to kill him. 
As for Mr. Jay, he was too contemptible to die, and I soon 
sent him off also, and he went off squealing, and yelling, 
and growling, as if I had done him a great injury in saving 
him from the hawk. My classmates laughed at me for spar- 
ing their lives, especially that of the hawk; but I stopped 
them by saying that I regretted that I did not keep the 
hawk to instruct the seminary in politeness and manners, 
and the jay for a living exhibition of depravity. I have 
given you a description of this boyish freak, not because I 
suppose it will interest you very much, but because I want 
you to understand that I expect hereafter to respect hawks 
and despise blue jays, and that I have about me a tender- 
ness of feeling that can spare even a hawk. 

"I suspect you will be obliged often to say, 'John, you 
must be more prudent in what you say or do ; you must be 
more economical:' but I trust you will never have to say, 
1 Don't be so mean ; do be generous and noble.' " 

"April 15th. 

"I have just received an invitation to become the editor 
of the Recorder and Telegraph for the last three weeks of 
vacation, which invitation, though not exactly what I like, 
I have concluded to accept. The wages will not be very 
great, but you know poor people like us must be content to 
labor. You are aware that our Rhetorical Society, which 
embraces the whole seminary, celebrates its anniversary the 
day preceding the anniversary of the seminary in September. 
We have two orators — one from the honorary members, and 
the other from the seminary. You may smile when you 
hear that the orators this year are — Doctor Griffin, President 

of Williams College; and Todd, of the senior class; and 

Colton, poet. The oration, which falls upon your humble 

9 



130 JOHN TODD. 

servant, is the highest honor which the seminary has the 
power of bestowing, as it conies from the voice of the stu- 
dents. It is peculiarly so this year, as Howe, the most ac- 
complished scholar of his age I ever met with, was also a 
candidate for it. We two were the only candidates, and the 
Middlebury students used every effort to get Howe elected, 
in order to raise their college." 

"May22d. 

" I heard Doctor Griffin preach to-day. He is a large, tall, 
red- faced, flush -looking man — white hair, and small hazel 
eye — dressed in blue pantaloons and ruffled shirt. I was in- 
troduced to him, and urged to go to his place of abode, so I 
went and dined with him. He is a very pleasant man, agree- 
able in conversation, though rather egotistical. The whole 
subject of our conversation was the cause of Africa, in which 
his whole soul was deeply engaged. Our conversation was 
very interesting to me, and seemed to be so to him. He is 
an eloquent preacher, has a loud, sweet, and clear voice, and 
a great power in controlling it." 

"May 25th. 

" I have left my big house of a hotel, and live in the fam- 
ily of Mr. Willis, the proprietor of the Recorder. It is a 
great family as to numbers." Mr. Willis had a large family 
of children, some of whom afterward distinguished them- 
selves in the literary world. In some way or other, the 
young preacher was so unfortunate as io incur a displeasure 
which long years afterward dipped the pen of Fanny Fern 
in bitterness. 

"May 29th. 

"A few days since, a committee from Park Street, Old 
South, and Essex Street churches, waited on me, and in- 
formed me that I was appointed orator to deliver an address 
in Park Street Church before those churches on the Fourth 
of July next, ' in behalf of the cause of Africa.' " It was 
customary at that time, in many places, to celebrate the 
Fourth by a religious, as w 7 ell as a municipal, public service. 
The latter service, appointed and attended by the city au- 
thorities, w 7 as at that time held in the Old South Church, as 
of late years in the Music Hall. " This was very unexpected, 
and that for two reasons : (1.) They have never before had 
a less man than an ordained minister; (2.) I have no ac- 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 131 

quaintance in Boston, and can not see how I was sufficiently 
known to be appointed. If I succeed, it will be a great ad- 
vantage to me. The subject of the oration is trite, distant, 
stale. If I fail, it will kill me as to all my prospects. I im- 
mediately called on Professors Porter and Woods (both of 
whom happened to be in the city), and laid the case before 
them. They feared my health would break down under the 
burden which I must necessarily endure this summer. They 
thought, too, it was a case of life and death — that I must 
put forth my mightiest exertions, or it would ruin me. But, 
on the vjfwle, they decidedly advised me to accept of the 
appointment. I then called on my good cousin, Mr. Evarts, 
and asked him the same questions, stating my exact situa- 
tion. He was pleased to see his Cousin John needing advice 
on such an occasion, and very freely advised me to undertake 
it. Accordingly I returned an answer that I would try to 
prepare myself for the occasion. What effect, you ask, will 
it have on the valedictory ? This is, probably, decided. If 
it is not decided, I should think it not likely to be given to 
me. Why? The trustees will know of my appointment at 
Boston, and they will not doubt, if they have any doubts on 
the subject now, that I am able to make something of a man 
in the world, and that I am worthy of the valedictory ; at 
the same time, they know that Howe is equally worthy, that 
he has not received any of the honors which I have received 
this year, and that I have now received as much honor as 
any young man can safely have bestowed upon him. I 
ought, in conscience, to be content. I have full as many ex- 
pectations excited as I can wish. Do not fail of praying for 
me daily, that I may be humble and holy, that I may be as- 
sisted in the duties before me, that I may be a devoted and 
useful minister of Jesus Christ." 

" June 26th. 
"On Monday evening, in company with Rood, I left the 
seminary in a chaise, to meet the Suffolk Association at Ded- 
ham — a distance of thirty miles. I was almost sick, and 
glad of the ride. We staid at Medford with my friend War- 
ner that night. Rood lay down, and I went to a church 
conference, and talked, as usual. After that, I sat down and 
wrote my creed for the next day, then chatted with Warner 
till nearly morning. On Tuesday morning I rode with War- 



132 JOHN TODD. 

ner to Dedham, fourteen miles, through Boston, to the house 
of Rev. Mr. Burgess. They live in princely style, in a large 
and delightful country-seat. Here I was to be examined 
for license. The Suffolk Association embraces the orthodox 
ministers of Boston and the vicinity. It was for this reason 
(viz., their high-toned orthodoxy) that I chose to be exam- 
ined by them. Our examination was pretty severe, com- 
mencing a little past ten, and ending a little after four. I 
believe I succeeded well enough, as they neither brought me 
to a dead set nor puzzled me. Mr. Fay was moderator, Mr. 
Wisner scribe ; just the men that I could have wished had I 
selected from the whole State. I know not precisely what 
opinion they had of me, but I felt conscious there was not a 
mind present which I feared. What pleased me most was, 
that the creed which I made out on the way lay before the 
association, and they made it a text-book from which to ask 
questions. The other candidates read sermons, but I did 
not, and I suppose it was because I was examined as much 
as all the other three. Every difficult point was laid on my 
shoulders. After the examination was over we had a sumpt- 
uous dinner. Governor Phillips presided, supported by 
Messrs. Burgess and Wisner. Mrs. Burgess was at the other 
end of the table. I presume Paul ate a very different din- 
ner when he was licensed. The table was large, richly 
adorned and served ; beef, pig, mutton, ham, turkey, three 
sorts of puddings, strawberries and cream, iced cream, iced 
wines, cherries, etc. After going through all the formalities 
of the table, toasts, etc., and after receiving our licensures, 
which were granted with the greatest readiness by every 
one present, we took leave of the association, and returned 
to Boston." 

" June 30th. 

"As to my oration, it is all written, but I can not have 
patience to commit it. I have been at work at it to-day, 
till it has become so insipid that it seems as if my audience 
must hoot me when I come to pronounce it. It is awfully 
long, and dry, and stupid." 

"July 1st. 

"I have dined twice and drunk tea twice to-day, in order 
to get along pleasantly. I have declined invitations, and 
sjone to a boarding-house, because I wish to have a room re- 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 133 

tired, where I can write. I remember, too, that Monday is 
approaching, and I want to be alone, where I can tremble 
at my leisure. They have printed a handbill containing a 
scheme of the order of exercises in Park Street Church on 
Monday, to be distributed at the opening of the meeting. 
This was never done before, and was done, the committee 
informed me, ' out of respect to the orator.' They are beau- 
tifully printed, and I will try to send you one, where you 
will see my name in glaring capitals." 

"July 4th. 

"At three o'clock my bell rang, and I walked toward Park 
Street. There were six ministers in the pulpit with me, and 
more than twice as many below. The audience was quite 
large." After the singing of two or three anthems, in which 
"the excellent choir usually officiating were assisted," ac- 
cording to one of the newspapers of the day, by eminent 
performers on violins and " flutes and soft recorders," and 
after " the Throne of Grace was addressed in a feeling man- 
ner" by a minister from abroad, "the address was deliv- 
ered by Mr. John Todd, of Andover Theological Seminary, 
and was a masterly effort. 

" I had a severe cold, and a sore throat which almost 
strangled me, yet I lived through it, and came off with full 
as much applause as even you could wish. I was something 
over an hour in delivering it. The audience was very still 
and very attentive ; I could not have wished it more so. 
Mr. Fay shook me warmly by the hand. After I had come 
out of the pulpit, two strangers came to me and inquired 
when they could see me." 

The two strangers proved to be a deputation from Hol- 
liston, who, after hearing his oration, offered him an urgent 
invitation to settle in that place. Having listened to their 
representations, he returned, without giving any answer, to 
the company he had left. 

Amidst all this excitement, there was one momentous 
question which was seldom out of his thoughts : should he 
devote himself to the foreign missionary work? Many were 
his deliberations and conversations and letters on the sub- 
ject. The young lady whom he had selected for his wife 
had signified her readiness to go with him wherever " the 
finger of Providence very clearly pointed." Her father 



134 JOHN TODD. 

was unwilling that his child should leave the country, her 
mother still more so; but no positive prohibition was in- 
terposed. For himself, he had been for years expecting to 
go as a missionary, though perhaps the idea had first been 
suggested by his intimacy in Mr. Evarts's family, rather 
than the impulses of his own mind. But as his powers had 
developed, and he had become conscious of them, and his 
ambition had awakened, he had shrunk more and more from 
the thought of burying himself in heathenism. And now, 
with the applause of the day ringing and the sweet breath 
of flattery still warm in his ear, it was " an awful subject." 
Still, he wished to do his duty, and he waited for indications 
of Providence ; and, lest selfish and unholy feelings should 
unduly influence him, he wrote out, before retiring on this 
day of excitement and triumph, a fervent prayer, and sent 
it to his betrothed, designing, apparently, to set the subject 
before the minds of both of them in the most solemn and 
tender manner by its petitions: "May we love one another 
with purity, with tenderness, with unreservedness, with con- 
stancy ; may we long live together ; may we make each 
other happy, useful, respectable, and holy ; may we live and 
labor together in the vineyard of Christ ; and wilt thou, O 
Spirit of Grace, direct us where to go, where to spend our 
lives, where we Can be the most useful. Oh, shouldst thou, 
by thy providence, call us to go to some heathen land, may 
we be willing to go and labor and spend our lives for Christ 
our Redeemer." Having thus laid himself and his ambition 
and his love at the feet of infinite Wisdom and Strength, his 
wearied thoughts took wing from the noisy city, and the ex- 
citing scenes through which he was passing, and the prob- 
lems and struggles of the career that was opening before 
him, to hover for a moment over a quiet village and a peace- 
ful home, and an unconscious one who had given him the 
first and only real human love of any kind that had ever 
cheered his orphaned and lonely life: "And now, Protecting 
Power, send thy guardian angel to watch over my Mary 
while she slumbers this night. Let Peace kiss her pillow, 
let Mercy embalm her slumbers, let Health cover her with 
his mantle. May we long live to make each other happy, 
and, in our death, may we not long be separated." 
The prayer was answered. 



LIFE AT ANDOVER. 135 



CHAPTER X. 

LIFE AT ANDOVER Continued. 

A Disappointment.— A Saturday-afternoon Ride. — Groton. — The old Min- 
ister. — An unlooked-for Supply. — A Dinner-party. — Calls. — The Scholar- 
ship.— The Suicide.— A second Visit to Groton.— A Unitarian Church.— 
A Dilemma. — Dislikes to Go. — Honorable Intentions. — Graduates at An- 
dover. — Arrives at Groton. — A crowded House. — Meat for Lions.— What 
Unitarians say.— The Babbler.— Closely Watched.— Intends to split the 
Society. — An Epidemic. — Notes up. — Toddy on the Coffin. — Enemies and 
Friends.— The little Girl and her Chestnuts.— Toddites. — Thanksgiving- 
day. — Hurries away. — A Town in an Uproar. 

The gratification afforded by his success in Boston was 
almost immediately dampened by a great disappointment at 
Andover. The valedictory was given to Howe. This was 
in consequence of the adoption by the Faculty of an alto- 
gether new and unexpected rule, the justice of which it is 
difficult to perceive — that the man elected by the students 
as orator at the anniversary of the Rhetorical Society should 
not receive the valedictory appointment from the Faculty 
also. As Mr. Todd had already been elected to the first 
honor, he was by this rule excluded from the candidates for 
the other. In announcing the event to his future father-in- 
law, he shows very plainly that, in spite of all his attempts 
to prepare himself and his friends for this result, he was for 
the moment deeply disappointed and mortified. "I should 
like to have Mary read this letter, as I hate to tell her about 
the valedictory in her letter, though I don't really know as 
she cares about it." 

But there were events at hand which soon effaced the 
recollection of such boyish contests and disappointments. 
Already the young student stood unconsciously on the 
threshold of real life with its sterner battles. 

" August 13th, 1825. 

" On Saturday I received an invitation from a friend to 
ride with him. About two o'clock we entered the chaise, 
and after riding through an interesting country for twenty- 
eight miles, we arrived at Groton a little past sunset. I felt 



136 JOHN TODD. 

quite refreshed by the ride. Groton is a very delightful 
town about thirty miles from Boston. It has but one so- 
ciety and one meeting-house, though it contains over two 
thousand people. On entering the town, I was delighted 
with the natural scenery, which is really enchanting. I was 
immediately introduced to the minister, Doctor Chaplin, a 
venerable old man, more than eighty years of age. He was 
quite ill, and here I first began to suspect the snare into 
which my friend had drawn me. You must know they are 
all Unitarians, and hate Andover worse than poison. The 
good doctor is a kind of Arminian, a man of commanding 
talents, and, I doubt not, a go-to-heaven-man ; still, he has 
made all his people Unitarians. He was glad to see me, 
never heard of me before, was prepossessed in my favor at 
my appearance, for I was dressed handsomely — a thing 
which strikes Unitarians at once — and immediately urged 
me to preach the next day. What could I do ? I was not 
well enough, and yet here was a glorious opportunity to 
show Unitarians how Andover and orthodoxy could appear. 
You know my temperament so well that you will presume I 
did not long hesitate. The morning came. Doctor Chap- 
lin was unable to go out ; I went into the pulpit ; the con- 
gregation all stared ; no one knew who I was, or where I 
came from. It was fine sport to take them by surprise. I 
gave them one of my most popular sermons, and I never saw 
an audience so still. At noon they gathered around my 
friend, inquiring who it could be, and put money into his 
hand to pay our expenses, even before I came out of the 
pulpit. They knew not that Andover was like this. The 
afternoon went off equally well. After meeting, at night, I 
was invited to a dinner-party, which, I am sorry to say, I at- 
tended; not that I sinned very greatly, but because I could 
not enjoy myself in a company where nothing but politics, 
and roads, and canals, and birds, etc., was discussed. I 
could not introduce religion. In the evening I visited sev- 
eral families ; was everywhere treated with the utmost re- 
spect and kindness. They were so surprised that an Ando- 
ver man could preach, that they did not hesitate to express 
their delight. Had they previously known that an Andover 
student was to preach, I presume there would not have been 
a hundred at meeting ; but should it be known that I was to 



LIFE A T AND YER. 137 

preach there again, I presume there would be fifteen hun- 
dred present. We left early on Monday morning, had a de- 
lightful ride back, and I felt no other effects of my preaching 
than a severe headache. 

" Since I wrote you I have had the following distinct of- 
fers : (1.) A mission to Maine, on an exploring tour, for a year 
or less, as I please ; eight dollars a week and my expenses 
defrayed. (2.) A mission to Virginia for six months ; same 
salary. (3.) A mission to South Carolina ; twelve dollars a 
week, and part of the expenses defrayed. (4.) A mission in 
Savannah, Georgia, for six months ; same salary. On mature 
reflection, I have declined accepting any of these offers. I 
could succeed pretty well in any of them, but still none of 
them suits me. In rejecting them I have gone in accord- 
ance with the advice of Doctor Porter, on whose judgment 
I place great reliance. The next offer is the fellowship at 
the seminary. It has now been offered me formally, and I 
have it under consideration. It amounts to this: I may re- 
side at the seminary one or more years, as I please. My 
board, room, library, tuition, and washing are all given me. 
I am to select my own course of study, which must be ap- 
proved by the Prudential Committee, and in which I am 
liable at any time to be examined. I must stand ready to 
preach twice at an hour's warning. I may preach abroad, 
for pay, fourteen Sabbaths a year, besides twelve Sabbaths 
in vacation. I may leave at any time that I have a good 
call to go — so good that the committee shall approve of it. 
My expenses will be clothes, wood, light, and postage, all of 
which, I suppose, I could pay for by preaching. The ob- 
jections to it are, that my health needs a change, and my 
debts need Reducing. The advantages would be, great op- 
portunities for mental and moral improvement, and a good 
stand from which to take a good settlement, whenever I did 
settle. The probability is, that if I should stay I should not 
settle as soon, but should settle better. Doctor Porter says 
it is my decided duty to accept it; that he has not a doubt 
on the subject ; that it is the best offer the country can pre- 
sent a young man, unless a peculiar providence calls him 
into immediate service, in which case I could go. I am 
now inclined to think I shall accept it. I suppose this ap- 
pointment means I had not better think of becoming a mis- 



138 JOHN TODD. 

sionary abroad. Doctor Porter seems to wish to get me 
into a city, but I do not covet it." 

" August 26th. 

"Mr. Evarts and Mr. Fay and Doctor Woods have their 
hands on me still for the Palestine mission. They hang on 
heavily, and I say nothing. They are so anxious that I 
should go, that I presume, from what Mr. Evarts said last 
week, they would be willing to have me go for three years 
only, and then return, and not go again unless I chose. 

"It is quite sickly in the seminary. Doctor Murdock and 
others are sick with the fever, and I am with some of them 
most of the time. Last night I watched with Doctor Mur- 
dock. I value myself on being a good nurse, and love to 
take care of the sick. Doctor Murdock is very fond of hav- 
ing me at his bedside. 

"Last Sabbath I preached twice for Mr. Wayland, and in 
the evening for Mr. Greene, in Essex Street. To-morrow I 
am to go again to Boston, to preach for Mr. Wayland. Out- 
laws will not allow a student to receive pay for preaching, 
and the good clergymen around us, who make it a holiday 
at this time, well understand it, and never give us a cent 
over what is barely sufficient to pay our expenses. I presume 
I shall preach abroad as many as seven Sabbaths this term, 
and shall not receive a shilling over what my traveling fees 
amount to. Still, the ride usually does me good, and I thus 
become known. Hallock has already besought me to edit 
two numbers of his paper for him, at the commencement of 
vacation, as he says the papers which I manufacture are bet- 
ter than his own. I have not promised him that I will, or 
will not. As we must get our livelihood ' by our wits,' as 
Burns says, it is necessary that I be active and seize em- 
ployment whenever it offers to suit me. I have no idea of 
our starving." 

"September 10th. 

"About the time of my visit to Groton, a young lady had 
been disappointed in love. She attended meeting all day, 
and, I suppose, was deranged. On her return home she 
said that I had preached at her individually all day. The 
consequence was, that the next day, or the next but one, she 
cut her throat. The Unitarians soon spread the report that 
the poor girl was scared into suicide by my ' brimstone ser- 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 139 

mon.' This, of course, I did not hear for some time after- 
ward. It did not trouble me, though I supposed it might 
have killed my influence in Groton. Last week, on Wednes- 
day evening, I received a letter from that place, requesting 
me to come and preach for them again. Immediately I 
began to write a sermon adapted to their circumstances, 
watched with Crosby on Thursday night, and finished my 
sermon about midnight. Saturday I rode to Groton, where 
I was cordially received by the family of the old minister. 
On the Sabbath, went into the pulpit ; the Unitarians scowl; 
have eleven notes for the sick ; preach twice, and come off 
with greater popularity than before. Judge Dana and Sen- 
ator Lawrence both invited me to a Sunday dinner. I had 
foreseen the snare, and had made an appointment to go and 
visit the sick the remainder of the Sabbath. They were dis- 
appointed, but there was no help for it. I had my sympa- 
thies much enlisted in behalf of this people, all brought up 
in the gayeties of this world, and with very little or no pros- 
pect of settling a minister who will guide them to heaven, 
for they will undoubtedly settle a Unitarian. 

"I wrote this morning to Hallock that I should not ac- 
cept of his offer. I am confident my health has suffered in 
consequence of my being an editor in vacation." 

"September 23d. 

"Next Tuesday and Wednesday are our great anniver- 
saries. I have both my pieces written, and partially com- 
mitted to memory. The employment of my life seems so 
vast, that I think but little of one occasion on which I am 
to speak. The trustees have offered a fellowship to Howe 
and myself — each a fellowship — for the coming year, and I 
think we shall both stay. 

"Something over forty -six years ago a young minister 
was settled in Groton by the name of Chaplin. He is now 
Doctor Chaplin. He married into a gay, worldly family, a 

sister of Judge P . This family have since all become 

Unitarians. As Groton was a beautiful and fashionable 
place, and as he had married such a girl, the consequence 
was that he was drawn away into the vortex of fashionable 
society. He attended balls, parties, card -parties, played 
blindfold, etc. The next consequence was, that, however or- 
thodox his head might be, his heart was cold, and he could 



140 JOHN TODD. 

not, and did not, preach faithfully, and to the conscience, on 
the Sabbath. What was first of necessity soon became a 
habit, and the consequence is, that all, or nearly all, of his 
congregation have become fashionable Unitarians. More 
than two thousand people belong to this society, and I sup- 
pose the widest cloak of charity could not cover more than 
twenty or twenty-five pious people in the place. The church 
is all rotten. Some of the leading men in town are deists 
and infidels. The church has never been disciplined, and 
these men belong to it. The town has a fund nearly large 
enough to support a minister, another to support a large 
academy ; it has a female academy also, and a kind of law 
school. I consider the town as given over to Unitarianism. 
Nothing on earth can save it except the almighty power of 
God. The few pious people are mourning in secret. Doc- 
tor Chaplin is over eighty years of age, is just dropping into 
his grave, and now begins to tremble for his people. You 
know I preached once to this people, before they knew what 
I was. All parties applauded. The Unitarians went too 
far in praising to retract immediately. The orthodox had 
no wish to retract. This gave the few pious people cour- 
age. They sent for me again. I went. The Unitarians 
were still mostly silent; they winced, but said but little. 
The pious were still more encouraged. The next step was 
for the pious people silently to raise a subscription, and in- 
vite me to come there a few Sabbaths, not as a candidate, 
but as assistant minister to Doctor Chaplin, hoping that a 
good impression in favor of piety may be made on the town, 
and that, for a few Sabbaths at least, they may hear faithful 
preaching. This is the invitation which I have received, 
and this is the business which prevents my coming to you 
immediately. I have thought of the subject in its various 
lights, and, according to the decided advice of the professors 
and Mr. Evarts, I have concluded that it is my duty to go. 
I anticipate not much comfort. I shall have many proud 
hearts rising up against my preaching. All the great men 
will at once array themselves against me. Who, you ask, 
will be for me ? Truly, unless Jesus Christ and a few pray- 
ing women take my part, I shall have to wade in hot water. 
Do I anticipate ever settling among them ? No ; they will 
not have an orthodox preacher. There is no prospect of 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 141 

that ; and even if they would, I have no wish to go there. 
Why do they not get a popular Unitarian ? Because the 
old minister will not let one go into his pulpit while he 
lives. The moment he dies they will have a Unitarian; and 
the prospect is, that, for generations to come, they will be led 
away by this bewitching delusion of Satan. I shall have no 
confidant, none to uphold my hands. Doctor Chaplin has a 
son of just my age, a graduate of Cambridge, and now a stu- 
dent in law with Judge Dana. He does not profess to be 
pious, but is orthodox up to the ne plus. It is he who is at 
the bottom of all this. He it is who is the means of getting 
me to Groton. It is really affecting to see the old man, who 
has for fifty years been preaching his people to ruin, now 
starting up just as he is about to drop into the grave, and 
the young man, who makes no pretensions to religion, try- 
ing to pull the society out of the mire. He will be the onl}~ 
man with whom I shall dare to converse freely." 

It was not without hesitation that he accepted this invita- 
tion to Groton. In replying to his friend, William L. Chap- 
lin, through whom the invitation had come, he wrote : 

"I took a letter in each hand, and placed myself in Doctor 
Porter's study. One was from Ohio, giving me a flattering 
invitation to visit Marietta; the other was from yourself. 
These I read to Doctor Porter, and then asked his advice as 
to the course to pursue. He thought the Marietta offer a 
good one — an important station, and an uncommonly good 
berth for one's comfort. Still, he thinks your town in so 
critical and peculiar a situation, that, should I have a bishop- 
ric offered me, it is unquestionably my duty to refuse it, and 
go to Groton, for a short time at least. I have accordingly 
made up my mind not to go to Ohio at present ; and, unless 
something should take place of which I am now ignorant, I 
accept of your invitation, and shall be in Groton before the 
Sabbath succeeding our anniversary, two weeks hence. In 
coming to this conclusion, if I know my own feelings, I have 
been actuated more by the interest I feel for your town than 
an expectation of personal enjoyment. Not that I shall be 
unhappy in Groton — your society would forbid this; still, 
there are very many unpleasant things to be expected. It 
is unpleasant to go invited only by a feio, feeling conscious 
that many abhor the sight of you ; unpleasant to labor in 



142 JOHN TODD. 

such a church, aud with so many prejudices arrayed against 
you. Yet the work itself is pleasant, and probably few tri- 
als are without their real advantages. Trials, like the hurri- 
canes of the Atlantic, may carry dismay, yet they commonly 
purify in their progress. The pearls of the greatest value 
are said to grow in the most troubled waters, and the poor 
diver risks neck and limb in obtaining them.'" 

In accepting this invitation he also resolved to do and 
allow nothing which the strictest sense of honor would not 
approve. " You know my feeling, that nothing but a faith- 
ful, devoted minister can raise your town for this life, or fit 
your people for the next. To get such a minister is ex- 
tremely desirable. Still, no dishonorable means should be 
used. We will not do evil that good may come. If pru- 
dent, straightforward, yet energetic exertions will not ef- 
fect the object, we must conclude that God has other de- 
signs, and yield to his providence." 

"October 4th. 

"I was almost made, sick by the severe duties of our an- 
niversary. I preached for Mr. Fay, in Charlestown, on the 
Sabbath ; returned Monday. I came off* pretty well on 
Tuesday, the anniversary of the Porter Rhetorical Society; 
pleased about every body except Doctor Chaplin, of Rocky 
Hill, Connecticut, and even him on Wednesday. On the 
latter day my piece was universally and excessively pop- 
ular." His theme on Tuesday was, " The Peculiar Motives 
which bear upon Christian Preachers in this Country to ex- 
cite them to cultivate Sacred Eloquence ;" and on Wednes- 
day, " The Sublimity of the Preacher's Work." " I will say 
to you that I wrote the piece read by X , the most pop- 
ular piece in the forenoon. He gave me seven dollars for 
doing it, and I must not mention it. He got more reputa- 
tion by it than by all he ever did in his life. It was ap- 
plauded to the skies. I laughed in my sleeve, and so may 
you. He must feel queer, or queerish. On Thursday I 
parted with all my classmates, with many pangs. Rode to 
Boston Thursday morning ; walked to Cambridgeport, and 
dined with the celebrated Doctor Chaplin." This Doctor 
James P. Chaplin was the elder son of Doctor Chaplin, of 
Groton, and an eminent physician. " Returned to Boston ; 
attended a large tea-party at Mr. Willis's; in the evening 






LIFE AT AND OVER. 143 

attended the ordination of several of my classmates ; was 
wearied beyond description. 

"I arrived in Groton on Friday. The pulpit had been 
supplied the two preceding Sabbaths by a Mr. Gage, a Uni- 
tarian from the Cambridge school, the valedictorian of his 
class in college. The Unitarians hugged him, clapped him. 
I was to follow, and for orthodoxy to follow was like vine- 
gar after honey. Sabbath came; the whole town was ex- 
cited, bustling, and fuming. The house was crowded, all 
staring. I preached. They were still, lost not a word, and 
through the day the house was in a breathless silence. The 
few poor pious people wept through the day. The Unita- 
rians raved, after meeting, beyond conception. I gave them 
orthodoxy with a decision and boldness that awed them 
while listening. I have no idea of tampering. Prudent I 
hope I shall be, but God forbid I lower the everlasting con- 
ditions of his word for the fear of man." 

Perhaps the reader is a little curious to know with what 
kind of meat this young Daniel, thrown into this Unitarian 
den, fed the lions. His theme in the afternoon was, Christ 
weeping over Jerusalem, and the lesson that he derived from 
it was, that Christians ought to feel deeply for those who 
are destitute of religion. (I.) Because the example of Christ 
requires it ; (II.) Because the irreligious have no happiness 
that is satisfying ; and (III.) Because they have a gloomy 
prospect for eternity. In the course of his remarks on the 
third head, he said : 

"Paul says, 'They that obey not the Gospel of our Lord 
Jesus Christ shall be punished with everlasting destruction 
from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his 
power.' Everlasting destruction from the presence of the 
Lord ! Oh, I can conceive of the sufferer clinging to the 
fragment of the vessel which has been shattered by the 
storm, in the darkness of midnight; the ocean has been 
lashed into convulsions, the storm has brought destruction 
on its wings ; his companions have mingled their last shrieks 
with the howlings of the tempest, as they sunk into the 
yawnings of the abyss; and as the poor sufferer is tossed 
from one wave to another, hearing nothing but the hollow 
roar of the great waters, seeing nothing but the whitened 
waves, how long does the night seem ! and with what ago- 



144 JOHN TODD. 

nized feelings does he look toward the heavens to see some 
ray of morning ! and how does he feel as if the sun had for- 
gotten to rise! I can conceive of such agony; but oh, who 
can conceive of the misery of 'everlasting destruction from 
the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his power !' 
there to linger out eternity, as it piles its ages on ages; 
there to gaze on an ocean whose every wave seems reddened 
with wrath, with no sun to rise on this gloom of night, no 
beam of hope to send its thrillings into the bosom of despair ! 
And when Christians look at the prospects which lie before 
the man who dies without possessing religion, how ought 
they deeply to commiserate his situation, and with tears 
point him to the ark of safety, whose door is now open ! 

"I hear something of what the Unitarians say. One says, 
'That fellow can preach now, for he has been years in writ- 
ing his sermons; any fool could do it; but he won't wear.' 
Another says, ' Because they've got a great orator here, they 
reckon to put their brimstone preaching on us.' A third 
calls the eternal God to witness that I shall not stay in town 
long. A fourth says, ' Though he doesn't singe us now, yet 
every body who comes from Andover has hell-fire enough 
to send us all to misery.' There are two things which the 
Unitarians here fear prodigiously; first, lest I should pro- 
duce a revival of religion; which they call ' a religious stir,' 
and abhor beyond all horrors ; and, second, lest I produce an 
impression in favor of orthodoxy that will lead the people 
to wish to settle an orthodox preacher. To prevent these 
dreadful catastrophes, the first men spend their time in rid- 
ing through the town all the week, to do away the impres- 
sion I make on the Sabbath. My duties are very severe. I 
have to write tw^o sermons for every Sabbath, preach twice 
during the week extempore, and visit the sick. You may 
presume that Mr. Todd, who is now the only subject of talk 
in the whole town and region, is no unimportant man among 
them. When I attend a weekly meeting the house is crowd- 
ed to excess ; when I attend a funeral, I am followed by 
nearly the whole town ; you may see the house filled — 
every corner, the doors, windows, and the very house sur- 
rounded by the gaping multitude, all listening to hear what 
' this babbler' will say. Last Sabbath I had men out to hear 
me that had not been before for ten years. You may won- 






LIFE AT AND OVER. 145 

der how I live amidst so much excitement. I wonder my- 
self; but I do not, and will not, consider myself as a can- 
didate for settlement here, only as an assistant to Doctor 
Chaplin, so that I feel perfectly independent, as it respects 
myself. I care not a whit what they say or do, provided 
they do not shoot me. It may give you some relief to know 
that I have no personal enemies ; that is, no one objects to 
my manner, to my writing, voice, or personal appearance. 
It is the matter which they hate. You would pity me, to 
see how closely I am watched. My every look, gesture, and 
word is remembered. For myself I feel no concern, except 
for my health. For the cause of pure religion I feel deeply. 
I have no expectation that they will ever have a pious or- 
thodox minister here, but there are already, by my preach- 
ing, a few who are anxious for their souls, and for them I 
feel. My responsibility is so great that it destroys my sleep, 
and, I fear, will soon wear upon my health. I saw wood ev- 
ery morning before breakfast for exercise, and ride in the aft- 
ernoon. I board at Doctor Chaplin's, and the whole family 
are very kind to me. The result of my labors here, should 
my health continue, will probably be a most severe struggle 
between orthodoxy and Unitarianism. That the latter will 
obtain the conquest, I have no doubt. Still, I trust it will 
do the people good. The Unitarians are the great men, .the 
rich, the influential. The poor orthodox tremble and quake 
before them — all but young Chaplin and myself; we fear 
them not. He is a fine fellow, and is, were he pious, a man 
after my own heart. I have enjoyed personal religion much 
since I have been here, and have no fears except for my 
health. The neighboring towns are wondering, and sit mute 
in astonishment to see an Andover student in the pulpit at 
Groton. It does all seem providential, and it is not impos- 
sible that God has good in store for this truly desolate place. 
Some few of my hearers have sworn that they will never 
again hear me preach ; but they will. They attend the fu- 
nerals, and will be present wherever I am called to speak. 
There were more people at meeting last Sabbath than there 
have been for fifteen years. I presume it will be so next 
Sabbath. I preach tenderly at the conscience, let doctrines 
alone, preach heaven and hell, and the responsibility of man ; 
take depravity as granted, and acknowledge it in my public 

10 



146 JOHN TODD. 

prayers ; speak of the Trinity, Saviour, and Holy Spirit, as 
if no one ever questioned the doctrines. I can not set this 
town all by the ears, as I shall, without having it known 
abroad. To God I look for a blessing, or all is vain." 

" October 17th. 

"You make me smile when you say you don't know but 
I may have a call to settle here. You don't know the power 
of Unitarianisra. The Unitarians become more silent, and 
intend to let the matter go off as well as they can. They 
come not near me. I should be caressed, were I only of 
their sentiments. Oh that I were more worthy to suffer 
such reproach as Christ endured ! Last week I preached 
four times in Gioton, a preparatory lecture in Pepperell, and 
a lecture in Littleton. The object in going out of town was 
to have a reaction upon Groton ; that is, in the same propor- 
tion as orthodoxy is popular in consequence of my going-out 
of town, in that proportion will the news return, and make it 
popular here. I have no expectation of bringing this great 
town over to orthodoxy, but I intend to split it, so that an 
orthodox society can grow out of it. This will be no small 
triumph, and no small blessing to the town. You must not 
think I am elated with my popularity. I have enough to 
humble me, many bitter things said against me and my re- 
ligion. I should feel very bad if I were a candidate here; 
but I am only an assistant, and am independent. You will 
see by my calculations that I can not be at Andover for 
three or four weeks after the commencement of the term. 
The committee of the seminary understand it all, and will 
excuse it. As to not being at study, I never studied harder 
than now. I have been more with sickness and death than 
in all the rest of my life. Sometimes I have twelve or thir- 
teen notes up in one prayer. This at first troubled me ; but 
I now classify, load my memory, and cut through all as well 
as I can." The occasion of so much sickness was an epi- 
demic influenza of a very severe type which was prevalent 
throughout the country. "At their funerals here, they in- 
variably hand round rum, brandy, and wine, and the bearers 
are often intoxicated." He used to say that he had seen 
them beating up toddy on the coffin ! 

" I am in hopes the poor orthodox people will get over 
their fright before I leave. When I first came, the Unitari- 



LIFE AT AN DOVER. 147 

ans shouted so loudly that they scared the orthodox, all but 
Chaplin and myself; but I have taken so bold and decided a 
course, that the scared ones are beginning to gather courage. 
It takes the Unitarians a whole week, in riding and talking 
and blustering, to do away the impression made on the Sab- 
bath, and even then they do not half accomplish their end." 

" October 31st. 
" My congregations on the Sabbath are immense. Yester- 
day there was a fuller house than has been known for forty 
years, and the house is prodigiously large. For a week back 
I have been ill — caught a severe eold at an evening lecture ; 
yet I preached five times, yea, six times last week, besides 
three funerals. Amidst all the talk about me, you may pre- 
sume there is much of good and much of bad. It is true I 
have many warm admirers, and some bitter enemies. The 
Unitarians hate me, curse me, yet all come to hear me. The 
women especially are almost universally my friends, and so 
are all the poor, the lame, the halt, and the blind, and so are 
all the little children. A lady mentioned to a little girl, to 
whom I had never spoken, that Mr. Todd was to leave in 
three weeks. She burst into tears, and said she would pick 
up chestnuts three weeks to pay me, if I w r ould stay. The 
Unitarians have some peculiar phrases which they apply to 
those who flock to my meetings, such as Todd-crazy, Todd- 
mad, and Todd-mania." For years they were called " Todd- 
ites." "They want me to stay and preach on Thanksgiv- 
ing-day, but I shall get oif, as I now think, by pleading my 
health. The Unitarians here are prodigiously afraid of a re- 
vival of religion. They dread that more than any thing else. 
You presume, by my writing, that I am buried up in the 
good of Groton. I am so. I dream about them, think about 
them, talk about them all the time. One thing you may be 
sure of, that it will cost Unitarianism great labor and time 
to get the wound healed that it has received since I have 
been here. People are my constant hearers who have not 
been into the house of God for ten, fifteen, or even thirty 
years. I preach at the conscience, and press man's account- 
ability severely, and say but little about 'brimstone.' They 
feel the shoe pinch prodigiously, but know not exactly what 
makes it. They feel no flames of hell, and yet are in torture, 
and can not account for it. I know what the matter is, and 



148 JOHN TODD. 

9 

lay on. The ministers around me are mostly Unitarians, and 
do not come near me. The whole region is watching me. I 
have hearers from the neighboring towns every Sabbath." 

" November 2lst. 

" I can not be with you at Thanksgiving. I never was so 
disappointed. I expected to set out this morning, but have 
been overpersuaded to stay and preach to this truly pitia- 
ble people on that day. I say truly pitiable, because the 
town is torn and rent in pieces, and I am the cause. The 
Unitarians are wide awake, and the whole town is in a dread- 
ful tumult. Nobody blames me; but truly my heart is 
melted for this town. God only knows what is in reserve for 
them. I shall go into the pulpit on Thursday at precisely 
half-past ten o'clock, shall preach, and, the moment the serv- 
ices are over, shall get into the stage and go home. I can 
sleep but poorly, and could not stand it much longer. I am 
glad I have only one more discourse to write." 

This resolution was punctually executed. He had had no 
vacation for many months, and after so much excitement, 
especially, he was in great need of rest. The eight weeks 
for which he had been hired were now fully past. The mo- 
ment, therefore, that the services of Thanksgrving-day were 
ended, he hurried away, to bury himself, after a short visit 
in Newington, in the retirement and quiet study of the sem- 
inary, leaving the scene of his brief ministry in a tremendous 
uproar. 






LIFE A T AND VER. 1 4 9 



CHAPTER XL 

life at andover — continued. 

Reasons for Flight. — Defeat. — A stormy World. — Retirement. — Rumors. — 
The Petition. — A wild Congregation. — Petition rejected. — Claim of the 
old Pastor. — A Night Ride. — Moderation advised. — Constables at the 
Church-door. — A Council. — A Committee handled without Gloves. — The 
Call answered.— A Broad-axe Sermon.— A Sunday at Portsmouth. — The 
first Sermon in a new Church. — Genuine Drudgery. — Another Defeat. — 
Another Council. — Compromise rejected. — An Invitation accepted. — 
Dread. — Good-bye to Andover. 

There were other reasons for the hurried flight from Gro- 
ton than the longing for rest and quiet. The friends of Mr. 
Todd had determined to bring the question which agitated 
the town to an issue, and he did not wish to be present 
during the struggle. Already, on the 14th of November, 
the church had met and voted — seventeen to eight — to call 
him to settle with them in the ministry, as co-pastor with 
Doctor Chaplin. According to the usages of Congregation- 
alism, it was necessary that this vote should be confirmed by 
a vote of the parish, which at that time comprehended all 
the legal voters in town. A town meeting was therefore 
called for the day after Thanksgiving, at which the friends 
of Mr. Todd were defeated at every point, and a committee 
was chosen to supply the pulpit. 

To William L. Chaplin. 

" Newington, Conn., December 1st. 
"Your letter arrived yesterday. I was prepared to re- 
ceive just the tidings which it contained. Since leaving 
you, I have walked as a distant spectator, with my arms 
folded, and have rejoiced not a little to get into a more 
peaceful region. You tell me to hold myself in readiness. 
I trust I need not tell you that I am sufficiently interested 
for you, and that I feel grateful for the many kindnesses of 
your family and of my friends in Groton ; but since my re- 
treat, I confess I feel but little disposition to encounter an- 



150 JOHN TODD. 

other such warfare. Should I be called again among you, it 
is evident that it must be a party concern, and will place me 
in a situation much more trying to my feelings than that 
through which I lately passed. Your imagination may now 
find me in a pretty parlor, with a Franklin stove and neat 
carpet, sitting at my ease at the writing-desk of a lovely 
young lady, leaning on my left elbow, and musing over Gro- 
ton, with your little letter lying before me. It is cloudy 
without, but there is sunshine above these clouds ; it is a 
stormy world, but there is one above it where storms are 
unknown. My health is good, but, as I expected, my spirits 
are somewhat depressed after so much excitement. Give my 
best love to your good father and mother — to the ladies 
whose pies I used to steal, and who were exceedingly kind 
to me, and to whom I feel very greatly obligated. The 
' hoobub ' has doubtless thinned the number of my admirers 
and friends. Thank them all for their kindnesses to me." 

On his return to Andover, he was met by a messenger 
from Dunstable, New Hampshire, who brought him an invi- 
tation to preach in that place as a candidate. "As I would 
not, and could not, be considered as a candidate there, I re- 
fused at once. 

"I found Howe was here, and had concluded to board in 
commons this winter, on account of his lameness. Of course 
he needed to room in the seminary. After talking the mat- 
ter over with him, I concluded to let him have the room 
alone, as I was convinced that we should both study more. 
I ought to say that he was very honorable in his feelings. 
Doctor Murdock has consented to receive me into his family." 

This was no small sacrifice, as it involved the surrender 
of a large part of the advantages of the fellowship. There 
were, however, some benefits to be derived from it. " (1.) I 
want Doctor Murdock's conversation, which I now enjoy full 
two hours every day. (2.) I have his whole library at com- 
mand. (3.) Mrs. Murdock is a good, motherly woman, and 
will take the best of care of me if I am sick. (4.) I shall nec- 
essarily see much good society from abroad, and thus brush 
off some of my rusticity of manners, and have my spirits 
cheered by a pleasing variety. (5.) I have a large good room, 
carpeted, and every convenience heart could wish. It is the 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 151 

same room in which Gibbs translated his Hebrew lexicon. 
Mrs. Murdock is very neat, the family very agreeable, and 
their table elegantly and sumptuously spread. Mr. Stuart 
says it is the best place to study in town. My friends seem 
to fear I shall study too hard ; and even Mr. Evarts endeav- 
ored to make me believe I should go into immediate con- 
sumption if I study too hard. I told him he made me think 
of the wisdom of the old lady, wishing to scare her daugh- 
ter by telling her that her salt would be poisonous if it was 
pounded too fine." 

In this peaceful retirement he spent several weeks, occu- 
pied wholly with his books, and hardly knowing any thing 
of the outside world or the stormy scenes that he had left. 
Indeed, even his efforts to learn a little of what was going on 
were almost fruitless. Absolute silence seemed to have fallen 
around him. " I am at my studies, pretty much buried up ; 
hear little of the world, and care less. I am all alone, and in- 
tend to be the rest of the year. Were it not for my debts, 
I never was so happy before. Besides these, not a care trou- 
bles me. I sometimes look forward, but as I can see nothing, 
I come back again, and enjoy my present existence. I like 
my boarding-place very much ; and, taking my own way in 
my studies, I hope to make some advancement. I write no 
sermons, nor any thing else. My studies are mostly of the 
severe kind, and require no writing. I have no inducement 
to write sermons, as I have enough (such as they are) to 
preach in any place to which I may be called. I look for- 
ward to no definite prospect for life. Should there be no 
opening for me between this and next fall, I shall push for 
New Orleans or the Western country." 

Gradually, however, the commotions of the outside world 
made themselves felt, even in the still waters of this schol- 
arly seclusion. Reports began to come that " all Groton 
was in a tumult," and " wild with excitement," and that the 
town was "shaken to its foundations." Presently more defi- 
nite accounts arrived. Undismayed by their discomfiture in 
town meeting, the orthodox party got up a petition, and cir- 
culated it through the town on a " cold Tuesday," praying 
the committee for supplying the pulpit to employ a candi- 
date, and that Mr. Todd be this candidate. " It was signed 
only by regular voters, and contained a majority of nearly 



152 JOHN TODD. 

or quite fifty of all the voters in Groton. This was won- 
derful. The committee are in a sad predicament. If they 
grant it, and I go there, they fear it is death to their party. 
If they refuse, as they probably will, it will bring odium upon 
them, and make their party more and more unpopular. No- 
body, not even the petitioners, supposes they will have the 
liberality to grant it. I hope to hear from Chaplin soon, but 
he hardly dares write me, for fear his letters will be picked 
at the office." 

Pending the result of this petition, "I concluded, in conse- 
quence of receiving a letter from Doctor Chaplin, of Cam- 
bridgeport, to go down ; so on Saturday I visited a little in 
Boston, and walked to Doctor Chaplin's. Here I found the 
old Doctor Chaplin, from Groton, who seemed very glad to 
see me. I was soon introduced to the Rev. Mr. Gannett, the 
Unitarian minister, for whom, at Doctor Chaplin's request, I 
was to preach. I could see at once that he was sorry to see 
me ; but as Doctor Chaplin had requested him to invite me 
to preach, and as Doctor Chaplin pays sixty dollars annually 
toward his salary, he could not refuse. Behold me, then, on 
the Sabbath in a Unitarian pulpit, the minister by my side 
trembling like a leaf. I went home with him at noon, and 
sat down to a sumptuous dinner — real Unitarian. His wife 
is a beautiful creature, gay, dressy, and extravagantly fond 
of company. Mr. Gannett and myself both shunned any 
ground on which we should clash, and were both embar- 
rassed. I thought he did not appear to think me much to 
be feared ; but after I commenced the services it was differ- 
ent. People sat in astonishment, looking as wild as a hur- 
ricane. At noon Mr. Gannett gave me several hints about 
how he never preached doctrines, how he never offended his 
hearers, seemed very anxious to know my subject, etc. ; but I 
kept him wholly in the dark, and pretended not to under- 
stand his hints. He must have thought me a stupid creature. 
In the afternoon his congregation looked still more wild, and 
as still as if in the presence of death. They never had any 
thing like it. Curious stuff is this orthodoxy. Mr. Gannett 
never thanked me, but said he should remember my kindness ; 
and I very much mistake if he does not remember it for a long- 
time to come. His church is very large and handsome, but 
has not much of a congregation in it. It was a charming 






LIFE AT AND OVER. 153 

place to speak in. In the evening I preached for Rev. Mr. 
Jacobs, a Baptist. The house was crowded, and very warm. 
As neither he nor Mr. Gannett would take part in the exer- 
cises, I was not a little fatigued ; and here I caught my severe 
cold, going out from this warm house. The Baptists seemed 
delighted, but greatly wondered how such a preacher could 
get into a Unitarian pulpit. Many of them were acquainted 
at Groton, and quickly concluded that Groton people will 
never bear such preaching ; and I more than fear their an- 
ticipations are correct. Doctor Chaplin was kind enough to 
pay my expenses, and Mrs. Chaplin gave me two new white 
linen pocket-handkerchiefs, or, rather, two 'flourishes;' so 
that now, when I preach, and use one of my 'flourishes,' I 
need not reflect I have only one more." 

To William L. Chaplin. 

" January 10th, 1826. 

"By a letter received from Cambridgeport last Saturday, 
I have learned that the petition was rejected, for two rea- 
sons : (1.) Unfairness in getting subscribers; and (2.) Can- 
didate engaged. This was all I learned, except that per- 
haps you would think of a town meeting soon. The game 
you are playing is a mighty game. Doctor Porter told me 
yesterday that no state question for many years had awak- 
ened so much interest; all eyes are turned toward you, all 
are watching, all are anxious. Seldom has a question been 
pending on which so many were looking with interest so 
intense. You must raise your minds and exertions to a 
level with your station. There is no drawing back. God 
Almighty seems to have placed you as you are, and you 
must go onward. The sympathies and the prayers of many 
attend you. It is a heavy throw. All are anxious here, as 
they are also in Boston, and all the region round about." 

The next move in the " game " was made by Doctor Chap- 
lin. He had been " settled " for life, and, according to con- 
gregational usage, had the right to say who should occupy 
his pulpit. The committee, however, took the ground that 
in consequence of his extreme age, and inability to take per- 
sonal charge of the pulpit, this right was vacated, and ought 
to be relinquished. Accordingly, when their pastor had of- 
fered to supply the pulpit at his own expense until a man 



154 JOHN TOI>D. 

could be found in whom all could unite, they had promptly- 
rejected his proposition, and continued to exercise the right 
to take care of the pulpit, which they had taken from him. 
"They brought Rev. Mr. Robinson there, formerly settled at 
Eastport, Maine, a pretty heavy man as to talents. Before he 
went into the pulpit, Doctor Chaplin wrote a note to him and 
to the committee, saying that if he went into the pulpit it 
would be against the wishes of the church, the majority of 
the people, and himself. This was a spirited remonstrance, 
but it produced no effect. Doctor Chaplin then called a 
meeting of bis church, to ask their advice. They voted, (l.) 
That they thought Doctor Chaplin had a right to supply 
the pulpit himself; (2.) That they wished he would do so ; (3.) 
That he employ Mr. Todd ; and (4.) That no member should 
thereafter be admitted from another church without first 
explicitly assenting to their articles of belief. They next 
had a caucus of the orthodox present — just one hundred, 
and all very respectable men. They voted, (1.) That they 
thought Doctor Chaplin had a right to supply the pulpit ; 
(2.) That they wished him to assert the right; and (3.) That 
Mr. Todd be the man. These were all legal voters. A com- 
mittee waited on Doctor Chaplin with these resolutions, and 
he promised to comply." Accordingly, he undertook to fur- 
nish a supply for the following Sabbath, and a letter was sent 
to Mr. Todd, requesting him to send a suitable preacher. 
Meantime, the committee vowed that no man but theirs 
should enter the pulpit. 

"January 28th. 
"A few days since, I received a letter from Chaplin w T hich 
troubled me considerably, for I did not know what the Gro- 
tonians were coming to. I called on Doctor Porter, and had 
a long talk with him, and slept but little that night. On 
Wednesday a man was seen riding between Andover and 
Dunstable. He was astride a poor crazy sort of animal, but 
which shambled over the ground at a great rate. The rider 
was a curious-looking object. He was a strong, resolute- 
looking fellow ; a light plaid cloak w 7 as wrapped around him, 
with its collar tied close around his face, so as to conceal it. 
A large, black seal-skin cap was drawn over his head, saving 
his eyes, so that you could see scarcely any of his face. His 
arms, thrust through the arm-holes of his cloak, guided and 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 155 

encouraged his steed. All stared wildly at him, for he was 
either very much afraid of the cold, or else he wished not 
to be known. People stared, the dogs barked, the children 
whooped, the rider passed on in high spirits. But who was 
this rider? I presume you have guessed. It was my design 
to stop at Dunstable till evening, then push on to Groton, 
see my friend Chaplin, and back again to Dunstable before 
morning, and thus learn the state of things in Groton with- 
out having it known that I had been there. I had Howe's 
cloak and a borrowed cap, and no mortal could ever have 
mistrusted who it was. Just as I arrived at Dunstable, I 
met Chaplin coming over to see me. He did not know me. 
He went back to Dunstable till dark. I then left my horse, 
got into his chaise, and rode to Groton, got there about ten 
o'clock, sat up and talked till four; then he took his chaise 
and brought me to Dunstable, where we arrived before sun- 
rise, and I got back to Andover by noon, without having 
half a dozen know where I had been." At this secret in- 
terview, it was agreed that he should send over a suitable 
preacher from Andover to contend with Mr. Robinson for 
the possession of the pulpit on the following Sabbath. 

On laying the matter before Professors Porter and Woods, 
however, he found that they entirely disapproved of the 
plan, and on maturer reflection his own judgment condemn- 
ed it. Accordingly, he wrote to his friend Chaplin imme- 
diately, giving as the professors' advice and his own, that 
Doctor Chaplin should not attempt to supply the pulpit on 
the following Sabbath, and that he should never attempt to 
take or send a man into the pulpit until the committee had 
first yielded; "that is, by no means to have the clashing in 
the house of God. This, of all things, they would deprecate. 
They think it would do immense injury." He further ad- 
vised that Doctor Chaplin "immediately address a note to 
the committee, and another to Mr. Robinson, saying that it 
is the wish of his church, and of a large number, and, as he 
believes, a very decided majority of the legal voters, that he 
should supply the pulpit himself, as he undoubtedly lias a 
legal and customary right to do ; that he could not conven- 
iently obtain the supply for the coming Sabbath, but that he 
wishes to supply the Sabbath after next, and to continue to 
do so for the present ; that he has understood, to his great 



156 JOHN TODD. 

surprise, that the committee think of refusing him this 
right; and what surprised and grieved him still more was, 
that they talked of doing this on God's holy day; that it is 
unbecoming his character, his years, his feelings, and, above 
all, his sacred office, to resist, or to attempt, or to expect, 
any violent or unchristian measures; that he distinctly dis- 
avows any intention to go into his own pulpit, even at the 
request of a majority of his beloved flock, unless the com- 
mittee will peaceably withdraw their preacher, and permit 
him to go forward unmolested, etc. This must bring the 
committee to a point. Unless they are absolutely mad, and 
given over to madness, they will not refuse your father the 
pulpit. If they do, then proper steps can be taken. It is 
vastly better to have the quarrel in a town meeting than 
to go to law about the pulpit At any rate, you must not 
have the quarrel in the meeting-house on the Sabbath. It 
would be awful to try the question in the meeting-house on 
Sabbath morning. Their party are expecting a quarrel next 
Sabbath, but they must be disappointed." 

The letter containing this wise advice to temperate meas- 
ures was dispatched by express, and arrived on Friday. 
But proceedings had gone so far that it was thought impos- 
sible to retract. " So they got Fisher, from Harvard, to go 
to supply; but when he arrived he found the Unitarian 
committee had appointed constables to keep him out of the 
pulpit. His heart failed him, and he dared not go into the 
meeting-house." 

After this defeat there was nothing for the orthodox party 
to do but wait for the annual town meeting. Meantime 
there was a short lull in the storm, while both parties gath- 
ered their strength and secretly prepared for a decisive con- 
test. 

" January 28th. 

81 Chaplin has come up from Boston, in haste, for me to go 
down immediately, and attend a council of consultation re- 
specting Groton." 

"January 29th, Sabbath Evening. 

"Our meeting was held at Squire Samuel Hubbard's 
house. The following gentlemen composed our meeting, 
viz., President Humphrey, Rev. S. E. I) wight, Rev. B. B. 
Wisner, Rev. Samuel Greene, Rev. W. Fay, Samuel Hub- 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 157 

bard, Esq., Doctor J. P. Chaplin, Deacon Procter, Deacon 
Bumstead, H. Holmes, etc., William L. Chaplin, and J. Todd. 
The meeting was held over four hours. The situation of 
Groton was stated. The whole story was told. Much dis- 
cussion followed, and very much sound wisdom was shown. 
The following seemed to be some of the points on which 
they were all agreed : (1.) Groton is one of the most impor- 
tant stands in our country for a minister to do good. (2.) 
That they are playing for life ; that is, which party soever 
gets beaten is dead. It can have no hope of living and 
forming a separate society. They have not principle 
enough to do it on our party, and not zeal enough on the 
other. The question, then, before the town is an awful ques- 
tion. (3.) The subject of the church was discussed. (4.) 
The subject of their choosing their civil officers in March 
was next discussed. (5.) How shall the orthodox sustain 
their party, increase it, and depress the other, between this 
time and the March meeting? After much discussion, it was 
unanimously agreed, no one dissenting but myself, that Mr. 
Todd was the man who got them into all this difficulty, and 
he must help them out, and he only can do it ; that it was 
vastly important that I go to Groton by some means or 
other, to go to work among them, and that, too, if possible, 
immediately. I know not what will be the result of this. 
I do not want to go to Groton under these circumstances. 
If I go, I sacrifice my time, and much more. I should go as 
an assistant to Dr. Chaplin, should have to assert his* right 
to the pulpit, probably be kept out by constables, and should 
draw upon me the direct enmity of every Unitarian in 
Groton or in the State. If I go there, of course it will be 
my aim, by bold and yet prudent measures, to carry my 
party through the struggle. If my conscience will possibly 
let me off, I will never go there again, or have any thing to 
do with them. But what can I, what ought I to do ? I 
have got the town into this situation ; how much ought 
I to sacrifice to help them out ? A few days since, I had 
an application to go to Henniker, New Hampshire, for six 
weeks. They offered to defray all my expenses and give me 
sixty dollars for six Sabbaths. As this was an uncommonly 
good offer, I felt disposed to go. But on proposing it to the 
committee, they refused to permit me to leave the seminary. 



158 JOHN TODD. 

So you see I am still ' under tutors and governors.' I did 
not grieve, for I confidently believe God will order all things 
as shall be most for his own glory, and for what is best for 
me. By the Groton affair I have doubtless drawn upon me 
the sympathies of many a pious heart, and I trust God will 
open a proper door for me. Let me trust in him." 

To William L. Chaplin. 

"January 30th. 
U I find that I can not come to Groton, and stay any time, 
without forfeiting my scholarship. I do not want to go to 
Groton. If I might consult my own personal feelings, I 
never would go into the town again, unless it be on a short 
visit. As the town is, with the prospects now before it, I 
have no wish to think of becoming its minister. My going 
to Groton would be a hazardous game; it might, and it 
might not, result in being beneficial to your party. It would 
warm all the decided friends and foes. How it would affect 
those who are wavering or indifferent, can be determined 
only by actual experiment. But I love you, love your 
people some, and hope I love the cause of truth more. If, 
then, it seems absolutely necessary for me to come, I will 
sacrifice scholarship, popularity, etc., and will come and help 
you. Still, if you can get along, and conquer in your March 
meeting without my being seen there, I think it will be bet- 
ter; that is, I will not come unless public feeling loudly de- 
mands it. In your caucus, please to handle that committee 
without gloves. Oh that I could have an opportunity to 
stand beside you and spout also ! We would shave them ! 
Dwell upon the liberality of ' the liberal party.' Shut an old 
man out of his pulpit ! appoint constables ! their system to 
be protected by constables ! their courage, too ! (they dare 
not let an orthodox preacher go into the pulpit a single 
Sabbath for fear he would upset their dish !) their economy 
and regard for the town ! Doctor Chaplin offers to supply 
the pulpit at his own expense till they find a man in whom 
the church and town can be united, and they will not, dare 
not, do it. There certainly was never a more elegant occa- 
sion to make a speech that will ' split the ears of the ground- 
lings,' make their eyes sparkle, and increase your own powers 
of talking. Be of good cheer, thou champion of orthodoxy, 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 159 

thou idol of the commons, thou star of truth, thou terror of 
evil-doers, thou upholder of parsons, thou presser of narrow 
beds, thou destroyer of the aliens ! Be of good cheer and 
good courage ! Oh, how I want to see thee ! My sides 
fairly yearn to laugh with thee ! Doctor Murdock can 
laugh some, but he is no more to be compared to thee than 
is a wren to an owl: the one only twitters, but the other 
whoops — like a gentleman. Forgive my trifling, for it may 
be wrong ; but I am lonely, and am thinking how I would 
laugh, if I could only see you." 

"February 11th. 
"Last week, on Friday, I wrote a long letter to the church 
in Groton. This letter was predicated on the call I received 
from them, though, of course, it contained no direct answer 
to their call. I intended to have it a plain, manly, bold ad- 
dress to the church. My only fear is that it is too smart, 
and will cut the Unitarians too deep; but I wish them dis- 
tinctly to understand that I can, and shall, have no fellow- 
ship with Unitarianism. I learn that my preaching at Gro- 
ton was the means, as is hoped, of converting some four or 
five individuals; that Robinson does not take — does not 
have over two hundred hearers ; that my friends are anxious 
to have me come there, but are willing to follow my advice ; 
that they are bending all their efforts to the town meeting 
in March. It is a contest of parties ; but I believe there is 
conscience at the bottom of it, though, doubtless, much that 
is unholy is mingled with good motives. Do I think the 
orthodox party will carry the day? No, not at present. 
They have too much mind working against them, and mind, 
in almost any struggle, will carry the clay. I most sincerely 
wish the contest were ended on one side or the other, but 
God's time is the best." 

To William L. Chaplin. 

" January 30th. 
" Yesterday I preached before the seminary — one of our 
Groton sermons. It made the natives stare, especially as 
they knew it was such food as you had to digest. Doctor 
Porter said I went at you with a broad-axe, but he was evi- 
dently pleased with it. I told him it was my manner to let 
it off at you 'bush fashion.' He is now laying a plan to get 



160 JOHN TODD. 

me into a neighboring pulpit the next Sabbath, in hopes 
that I can strike hard enough to split them. You see what 
a tool they make of me. I think you_. and I will soon be 
able to hire out to great advantage to split societies. How 
much shall we have the conscience to ask ? Shall we go by 
the day, or by the job ?" 

"February 25th. 

"At Newburyport I took the prevailing influenza, and 
have been sick ever since : till to-day I have hardly left my 
bed. For several days I was very sick, had a physician 
twice a day, watchers at night, and was some of the time 
much out of my head. A pretty severe medical course, with 
the best of nursing, has set things in the right way again. 
I am now well, only weak. Howe comes to my room daily, 
and we read Greek together. He has no plans for the fut- 
ure; wants to get a good settlement in New England. If 
no opening seems to invite me before next fall — and I have 
no reason to think there will — I shall take ordination, and 
away for the West or South. I will try to make one push, 
ere I consent to die a theological death in the chimney-cor- 
ner. I am to preach in Portsmouth. They send me into 
every hornets' nest in the whole region. 

" Last Saturday I went to Boston, and preached three 
times the next day — once at the Old South, Mr. Wisner's, 
and twice in the new church in Hanover Street, to which 
Doctor Beecher is called. This is the most beautiful house 
that I ever saw. I had the honor of preaching in it the first 
Sabbath, to an audience by far the largest I ever addressed. 
The crowd was so great that constables had to be stationed 
at the doors, and probably more went away who could not 
get in than the audience. I could not get to the pulpit, ex- 
cept by the constables' aid. My audience were very atten- 
tive, and I probably never acquired so much applause in any 
one day in my life. Anderson sat with me in the pulpit, 
but took no part. They gave me the usual price, ten dol- 
lars, for my day's work. The honor of going first into the 
house to preach is considered very great. 

" You know I went to Newburyport, a few Sabbaths 
since, to preach. In the last Newburyport Herald I notice 
an article, saying that the Rev. Mr. Ford, the minister of 
the society, is soon to be dismissed, and that the Rev. Doc- 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 161 

tor Dana, of Londonderry, and the Rev. Mr. Todd, of Ando- 
ver, are candidates to succeed him. The offer will, of course, 
first go to Doctor Daua, and he will jump at the chance. 
However, he is a great and good man, and it is no small 
honor to have my name stand with his. As to Groton, I 
really do not know what to do. I can not get at them to 
do them any good, and the professors and good people of 
this region would not allow me to be a candidate in any 
other place in the world while the question is pending. 

"I have my hands full of sermons, lectures, notes, and ex- 
egeses, belonging to the professors. They put them into 
my hands, and request me to read them, make notes on 
them, etc. I have just returned Doctor Woods nine ser- 
mons on one text, with two sheets crowded with criticisms. 
He sent me five new lectures, which he wants I should ex- 
amine. The professors seem to forget that while they thus 
honor my talents they consume my time, and make me pass 
through much genuine drudgery." 

"March 12th, Sabbath Morning. 

"I have been weeping, not for myself, but for my poor 
Groton friends. They have tried their strength and are 
completely put down — so I have heard. What will be the 
result, and what Providence designs for them, is more than 
I know. I have now no hope that they will ever succeed. 
Perhaps they may withdraw, and build a house, but I know 
not." 

"May 24th. 

"Chaplin came over last week, feeling bad enough. It 
would have made your heart ache to see him. In the town 
meeting, while electing officers, the Unitarians had one hun- 
dred and fifty -eight votes, and the orthodox one hundred 
and forty-one — a majority of seventeen. When they came 
to the ministerial question (which was, whether they would 
continue the present committee in office six months longer), 
the orthodox said, 'JVby let Doctor Chaplin supply the pul- 
pit, for he will do it without any expense to the town.' The 
Unitarians, seeing that they should lose the day, then moved 
that the present committee be continued in office six months 
longer, on condition that the preaching shall be no expense 
to the town.' On trying this motion, the Unitarians had 
one hundred and fifty-six and the orthodox one hundred and 

11 



162 JOHN TODD. 

forty- three — a majority of fifteen. So my poor friends were 
beaten. Chaplin comes over to inquire what shall be done. 
The professors advise that the orthodox set up a separate 
meeting, and that Mr. Todd go and preach down Unitarian- 
ism — say, a campaign of six months to begin with. This 
seemed to cheer Chaplin greatly, and he went home rejoicing, 
though I gave him no encouragement that I would go. This 
week, on Wednesday, there was a council held in Boston on 
the subject of Groton — consisting of Doctor Beecher, Doctor 
Woods, Doctor Humphrey, Doctor Payson, Mr. Fay, Mr. 
Wisner, S. Hubbard, Esq., Doctor Chaplin, Mr. Cornelius, 
Deacon Proctor, Deacon Bumstead, and Henry Holmes, Esq. 
They passed the following resolutions : that, in their opinion, 
it is expedient for the orthodox in Groton to have separate 
worship ; that, in order to hold a check upon the fund, the 
church hold its stated communion as usual, in the old meet- 
ing-house ; that Mr. Todd is the man to go to Groton. My 
every feeling, my very soul shudders (horresco referens), while 
I think of going there. Now, what ought I to do ? If I 
don't go, I go contrary to the wishes of half the ministers in 
the State ; though, at the same time, I know they are think- 
ing only of the good of Groton, and think nothing of my 
good or wishes. Doctor Woods told them in Boston, ' Our 
Mr. Todd is a genuine hero. He stands and looks at the 
field of battle, dreads to enter it, but if we once get him 
there, he will fight most powerfully. There is no shrink to 
him.'" 

In accordance with the recommendation of the council in 
Boston, the friends of Mr. Todd held a meeting, in fine spirits, 
and voted to have preaching forthwith. They appointed a 
committee to apply for the use of the large hall in the acad- 
emy, another to fit it up, and a third to invite Mr. Todd " to 
come and reside among them, and perform ministerial labor 
for the present." Alarmed at the prospect of Mr. Todd's 
return, the Unitarians offered to raise a large committee, 
half from each party, to settle matters. "The orthodox say, 
'No; we won't be duped any longer. No hurry, no hurry; 
let us have Mr. Todd here a w 7 hile, and hear a little of the 
old-fashioned preaching ; and then, when we get cool, there 
will be time enough to talk about compromising.' " The 
committee appointed to invite Mr. Todd performed their 



LIFE AT AND OVER. 163 

duty promptly and becomingly. " We are aware that one 
who can command almost any situation he may choose re- 
quires no common degree of self-denial to expose himself to 
the trials that must inevitably await him in circumstances 
like ours. Whether the present is an emergence that de- 
mands this great personal sacrifice on your part, we must 
submit to your sober reflection. Though this situation may 
not promise all the enjoyment that one could wish, yet we 
believe that the strong hold you have upon the best feelings 
of this people would give you a vast advantage over any 
other man for extensive and lasting influence." This oflicial 
invitation was backed by all sorts of personal appeals. " You 
have doubtless learned," wrote Doctor Chaplin, of Cam- 
bridgeport, " the opinion of the meeting in Boston ; and I 
will add that it is the concurrent opinion of all with whom 
I have conversed. They are decided not only as to the 
main question, but that you are the man. I believe you will 
find yourself more pleasantly situated far than in your late 
residence there. Your friends have been sorely tried, stand 
firm, and improve daily by friction. You are expected, by 
friends and foes, to be there by the first Sabbath in April, 
in your own proper person, large as life. Be discreet, pa- 
tient, firm, unwearied in prayer, and the great Captain of 
our salvation will conduct you and his friends to a glorious 
result." 

Under the circumstances, Mr. Todd felt that there was 
but one course for him to pursue. Yet even in his public 
acceptance of the invitation he could not help manifesting 
his reluctance. " Permit me to say, I have acted more from 
a scrupulous regard to what,, on the whole, seems to be duty, 
than from regard to my own feelings. You are so good as 
to say, in your communication, that in accepting your invi- 
tation I must make personal sacrifices; and I assure you that 
what you thus generously intimate I can not but deeply feel. 
My circumstances are such, that many reasons, to my own 
mind strong and powerful, have caused me greatly to hesi- 
tate as to its being my duty to accept your invitation ; and 
these reasons will forbid my committing myself by any 
pledge that will prevent my leaving you whenever I shall 
deem it my duty so to do. But though I have hinted at 
painful doubts and feelings while making up my mind to 



164 JOHN TODD. 

come to Groton, yet you will not thence infer that, after con- 
cluding that it is my duty to come, I shall come with any 
want of cheerfulness. No, gentlemen ; the indications of di- 
vine providence seem to be such as to promise many spiritual 
mercies to you and to your children. I trust the hand of 
God is directing you. You will wish me to come, of course, 
not as a partisan, but simply in the character of a preacher 
of the Gospel, considering it my duty to preach this as plain- 
ly and faithfully as is in my power, making the Holy Bible, 
and nothing else, my standard of opinions and practice. ' To 
the law and to the testimony ;' if I speak not according to 
these, 'it is because there is no light' in me." 

To his personal friends he expressed himself yet more 
strongly: "You see that I must go to Groton. I never 
dreaded any thing as I do this. I had much rather go to 
India or Palestine ; and could do it with less sacrifice of feel- 
ing and comfort. I have tried every possible way to get 
rid of the whole affair, but can not. I am expecting my 
friend Chaplin every moment to carry me to Groton." 

It was a painful hour which he passed in waiting to be 
carried away from the quiet scenes and studies in which he 
had spent more than three of the happiest years of his life, 
into the struggles and turmoils of the world ; and it was 
with many regrets that he took leave of dear friends, and 
threw a last glance around him upon familiar and loved ob- 
jects ; but the long period of preparation was over, and the 
time for active work had come. The bugle-call of duty had 
sounded, and it remained to be seen whether the battle that 
had been lost in caucuses and town meetings and elections, 
and when fought with " carnal weapons," could in any meas- 
ure be redeemed by a single brave soldier of the cross, cov- 
ered with "the shield of faith," and armed with "the sword 
of the Spirit, which is — the Word of God." 




THE OLD SANCTUARY. 

First Congregational [Unitarian] Church, Groton, Massachusetts. 



LIFE AT GROTON. 165 



CHAPTER XII. 

LIFE AT GROTON. 

Preaching in the Academy.— Rum in the Meeting-house.— Invitation to 
Portland. — A Bible-class. — Hell the same as Eternity. — A Stage-ride. — 
A young Lady's Desk.— Which is the Church?— Corner-stone laid and 
thrown down. — A Council. — Beecher on Rights of Churches. — The new 
Gown.— Invitation to Danvers.— The poor Bee.— The Raising.— A Scene 
at the Church-door. — An Installation Ball. — A Revival. — Conduct of the 
Inquiry-meeting. — A Remonstrance. — Organization of a new Church. — 
A Trap. — The Linchpins. — Call from the Union Church. — The Answer. — 
Changes. 

" Groton, April 10th, 1826. 
" I came here on Saturday (April 1st), nearly sick. On the 
next day I went to meeting ; house crowded to overflowing. 
They were all smiling for joy to see me, and I sat down and 
wept like a child. You too would have wept, could you have 
seen my poor persecuted flock. They had been trod on all 
winter, had heard no preaching, and were hungering for the 
bread of life. Never did I see an audience so eager to hear, 
never once saw people sit in such breathless silence. Verily, 
I feel as if God was present every time I meet them. I have 
been here eight days, and have preached six sermons (two 
on Fast-day). My audience is three, if not four, times as 
large as the Unitarian audience. They have the great meet- 
ing-house, and I the academy ; they are so scattered that 
they can hardly know each other, and we so crowded that 
many of our poor women faint away during service. Does 
it not seem strange to you that I could have an audience of 
eight or ten to their one, had we accommodations, and yet 
they constantly carry the town by vote ? The reason is, 
that the great men sway the town by influences which no 
conscientious Christian could ever use. At the town meet- 
ing last month they had their stores open, and all supplied 
with drink gratis, and cake and cheese gratis, and they even 
carried rum by the pailful into the meeting-house, in order to 
influence unprincipled men to vote against evangelical re- 
ligion ! Never did I see Unitarianism exhibited on so grand 



166 JOHN TODD. 

or so dreadful a scale as at present in this place. But I have 
good courage, for I believe that God is on our side. I sup- 
pose I shall spend the summer here." 

" May 17th. 

" Soon after receiving your last, I received a letter from 
the committee of Doctor Payson's society, Portland, inviting 
me to come there for a few months, stating that Doctor Pay- 
son was sick, and probably would not be able ever to preach 
for them again. I wanted to go. No place in the United 
States could have been offered more congenial to my feel- 
ings ; I may never have so good an offer. On the other hand, 
I had begun a great battle here, and if I left them now, I was 
afraid they would never move again. I wrote to Portland 
that I would consider the subject a week. I called the com- 
mittee here together, and stated my circumstances, that if I 
did not go, it was making a sacrifice very great. They de- 
liberated, and decided unanimously that if I left it would be 
impossible for them ever to keep the society together, etc. 
After much anxious deliberation in my own mind, for I had 
no one to consult, I concluded that I must not leave this 
post for the present. Was not this some self-denial ? Since 
I wrote to Portland I have been quite easy. I considered 
that God had marked out my path for the present, and so 
I was contented. Last Sabbath I organized a Bible-class 
among my young people, wholly a new thing in this region. 
Upward of fifty joined it. My orthodox friends have about 
concluded to go to work immediately and build a new meet- 
ing-house. You can not imagine how interested the people 
are about the new house. Many a poor girl offers to give 
half she is worth for the object. 

" I lately attended the funeral of a child, and in the course 
of my remarks I said to the parents they must soon follow 
their child into eternity. One of the Unitarians spread the 
report that I said the child had gone to hell, and the parents 
must soon follow it. On being called to account by some 
of my friends, he said he always supposed eternity and hell 
meant the same thing ! In one of my public prayers I lately 
quoted the first twelve verses of the 139th Psalm. The Uni- 
tarians caught the eighth verse ('If I make my bed in hell, 
behold, thou art there'), and the report over town is now 
current that I sent God to hell ; and they have no idea that 



LIFE A T GROTON. 167 

it was quoted from the Bible. Not a neighboring minister 
dares come near me, lest his people raise a dust. My every 
movement is watched, and I need much heavenly wisdom to 
guide me." 

Early in June he went to New Haven, " for the purpose of 
procuring an instructor for Groton Academy," and of course 
availed himself of the opportunity to visit Newington. 

To William L. Chaplin. 

" Newington, June 15th. 
"I left Boston at one o'clock for ' the Land of Steady Hab- 
its.' I had a bad crew — two ladies, one crazy man, and 
three rogues and drunkards. They quarreled, drew shears, 
broke watches, and so on, till I had to put in a voice, called 
them to order, made the driver expel one, and leave him by 
the wayside. At last, after riding all night in a cloud of 
dust, yesterday morning I arrived in Hartford not a little 
fatigued. Imagine me now bending over this same £ young 
lady's desk,' with ink, and knives, and folders, and divers 
other like implements before me, seated in an arm-chair, 
dressed in frock-coat, crape pantaloons, white stockings, thin 
slippers, cravat all awry, glasses off, and now dipping my 
quill to write to you, and now turning my eye off over the 
left shoulder to gaze upon a beautiful young lady. And 
when you have imagined this, imagine too how my thoughts 
so soon stray off to Groton with great anxiety, and then tell 
me if I do not feel too much interested for you and yours. 
I think that I must return as soon as I can, and the more 
I think of it, the more I dread it. I do dread commencing 
life under such circumstances; a man of ardent tempera- 
ment, and yet narrowly watched ; a man generous in dis- 
position, and yet his shoulders broken by blows laid on by 
poverty's club ; a man whose soul rejoiceth in refined and 
elegant society, and yet shut out from it ; a man ambitious 
as a war-horse, and yet tied up to go the rounds of a bark- 
mill ; a man despising ignorance, and yet with only books 
which might be put into a w r atch-pocket ; a man abhorring 
any thing that is tame, and yet placed amidst a body of 
clergy so tame that they need a ladder to go to bed by. 
Should this letter be peeped into before it reaches you, it may 
be well just to say that there is more than mere conjecture 



168 JOHN TODD. 

to excite the suspicion, that this is neither the first time 
they have done such a thing, nor the worst thing they ever 
did." 

At New Haven he was offered the editorship of the New 
York Observer, with a salary of one thousand dollars ; but 
he returned to Groton. 

A majority of the church, having withdrawn from the 
worship in the " Old Sanctuary," as it was called, claimed to 
be the church, on the ground that it is the organization, and 
not the place of meeting, that constitutes a company of 
believers a church. Their claim was strengthened by the 
fact that they continued to hold the pastor and the records. 
But they voted to suspend the celebration of the commun- 
ion for a time, lest by celebrating it elsewhere than in the 
meeting-house they should seem to abandon the claim to be 
the church, and so forfeit their interest in the parish fund 
of upward of sixteen thousand dollars. On the other side, 
the minority also claimed to be the church, on the ground 
that the part of a church which adheres to the home and 
maintains the relations of the church to the parish is the 
church, even if it is the smaller part ; and the departure of 
any number of members is merely a secession. The smaller 
part of the church proceeded, therefore, to celebrate the 
communion in their old place of worship at the usual sea- 
son. A dignified and earnest remonstrance, addressed by 
the aged pastor to one of the officers who remained with 
the minority, was ineffectual, and a committee sent by the 
majority to demand the communion- plate was peremptorily 
refused. At this point the seceding church, finding itself in 
peculiar trials and difficulties, determined to call a council 
of pastors and delegates from neighboring churches, and 
ask advice and sympathy. The time was fixed for the 17th 
of July. 

Meantime, on the afternoon of the 4th, the corner-stone of 
the new church edifice was laid. "The occasion was ex- 
ceedingly interesting. My address was listened to with in- 
tense interest by friends and foes. The stone was hurled off 
out of its place by wicked hands the night but one after it 
was laid ; but is it any wonder that they who cut away the 
great Corner-stone in open day, should overturn the corner- 
stone to his temple in the darkness of midnight ?" 



LIFE AT GROTOK 169 

"July 15th. 

"The council meet here day after to-morrow. I have 
spent most of this week in preparing a memorial of this 
church to read before them. It was no small labor to make 
it out. It occupies ten full sheets of closely written paper. 
It is a history of events here for the last eighteen months, 
and closes with the points on which the church needs advice. 
Though I wrote it, and expect to read it before the council, 
yet I intend it shall go in the name of the committee of the 
church, I acting only as a kind of lawyer." 

"July 19th. 

" The council all came on Monday, and the very moment 
that the hour arrived, I called them to order. They took 
hold like men. I read our memorial, of something like two 
hours in length, before them, and then the business was in 
their hands. They sat till ten o'clock in the evening, ad- 
journed till half-past seven yesterday morning, and sat till 
three in the afternoon, when they adjourned to the 22d of 
August. In all their measures they went just as I could 
wish, and Doctor Beecher really outdid himself. They ap- 
proved and commended all the steps and measures which 
we have as yet taken, and gave brief advice as to our future 
course. They appointed a committee to make out a full 
written report, to be presented at the adjourned meeting 
next month. From this I expect much. I am expecting it 
will be a heavy state paper." 

These expectations were not disappointed. The result of 
this council, which did not make its appearance till late in 
the year, was from the pen of Doctor Beecher, and was an 
able treatise upon the rights of churches, which had recently 
been infringed upon by legal decisions. It attracted great 
attention, but did not particularly affect the Groton case. 
" It is more a state paper than an ecclesiastical, but strong 
as iron. He takes hold of the laws of this State and tears 
them all to pieces, laying bare the foundations of right and 
wrong, which Unitarian legislators and judges have buried 
up in their trappings. In his words, ' they have killed the 
Church, and buried her, and placed the law as a sentinel over 
her grave, lest she should ever rise.' " 

" If we follow their advice, we have now to commence a 
severe course of discipline (even to excommunication) with 



110 JOHN TODD. 

all the Unitarians in the church. Oh, how my heart sinks 
under the thought ! It will set the whole town in an up- 
roar, and all the blame and cursing will fall on my head, as 
they do already. I have to bear the blame of calling the 
council, and of every measure which is now taken, whether 
offensive or defensive. On our present situation I have only 
to remark, (l.) That this quarrel is growing more and more 
awful, and is extending wider and wider. Still, the pros- 
pect of having great good come out of it never was so fair 
as at present. (2.) I can not, and will not, stay here much 
longer. I can not live through it. Such constant anxiety 
weighs too heavily upon my health, and I certainly shall 
sink under it. I do not now feel as if I could live here 
six months longer." 

The upper room in the academy being altogether too 
small for the congregation that crowded into it, and insuf- 
ferably hot at midsummer, the ladies presented him with a 
silk vest and gown to preach in, which he wore for a long 
time. A few days later, he " received an invitation from the 
committee of Danvers to go there to preach as a candidate, 
their minister being dead. It is twelve miles from Boston, 
a central situation, a large church and society, rich, very in- 
telligent, one of the most desirable stands, with almost any 
salary. I did want to go exceedingly. I met our commit- 
tee, and told them my situation. They were instantly up in 
arms, and said that they had thrown out encouragement 
that I would stay to get the meeting-house agoing ; that it 
all depended upon me ; and that it would be impossible to 
hold the society together, and build the house, if I left ; in 
short, it would ruin them. I could do no more nor less 
than to write to Danvers that I could not leave. The dis- 
cipline of the church goes on very well ; it is horribly dis- 
agreeable business, but they take hold of it like men and 
like Christians. It is the most trying situation in which I 
was ever placed; but I look to Jesus Christ for help. In 
the warfare here, I begin to feel that it is my daily business 
to meet with trials and reproaches, and I go cheerfully on- 
ward, and let them come. I am cursed openly and secretly, 
on the house-tops and in the streets; have received most 
severe letters from the first and greatest men here : but they 
have the wrong man to scare. I ought not to murmur at 



LIFE AT GROT OK 171 

Providence for placing me here in these trying circumstances, 
but it seems too much for me to endure. I am like a poor 
bee that sees a sweet flower, on which he would light and 
be happy, but is continually driven away by the storm; 
and it is in vain that he flies, and buzzes, and hums; he can 
not settle on the flower, but must be forced from it." 

" September 2d. 

"This has been an anxious week, but it is now nearly 
over. The weather cleared off pleasant, and early on Thurs- 
day morning the deposit was made under the corner-stone of 
our new meeting-house. At eight o'clock I was called out 
to pray ; the frame being covered with eighty men selected 
to aid in raising, and spectators all around, the rigging, etc., 
all being ready. They raised timbers weighing at least 
three tons at a time. I greatly feared accidents and mis- 
fortunes. Our friend S , a young man of our own rais- 
ing, took the command. Before night the number of spec- 
tators was immense, say nearly two thousand. It took 
two days to raise it, and by every body is pronounced the 
best frame they ever saw. It looks magnificently beauti- 
ful, and will probably be one of the best meeting-houses in 
the State. I am greatly relieved to have it over, and yet 
no life or limb lost. Not a man got in the least intoxicated, 
and not one used profane language during the whole. It 
makes the Unitarians awfully cross, and their bitterness 
flows out in great abundance." 

The town having called the Rev. Charles Robinson " to 
become their religious teacher," the concurrence of the 
church was necessary, according to congregational usage ; 
the pastor, therefore, caused to be affixed to the door of the 
meeting-house a call for a meeting of the church on Thurs- 
day, August 31st. "In the morning he sent a note to the 
chairman of the selectmen, requesting him to direct the 
meeting-house to be opened, which he presumed he would 
willingly do, as he had given him distinctly to understand 
that his 'personal presence at all times was not objected to, 
but cordially desired.' The gentleman wrote back, as I ex- 
pected, a most scurrilous letter. But I was determined to 
try the courage of our troops. So at three o'clock you could 
have seen an interesting sight. An old minister, eighty- 
three years old, shut out of his meeting-house, standing on 



172 JOHN TODD. 

the door-steps in front, with his church gathered around 
him; I standing at his left; and a little way off, a space 
being between, selectmen and lawyers, drunkards and 
judges, looking on. The old man took off his hat; we all 
took off ours ; the sun beat dreadfully hot ; he addressed 
his church tenderly, and prayed. He then made another 
address, and the votes for Mr. Robinson were called for. 
Twenty were present; all voted, and all voted in the nega- 
tive, i. e., not to give Mr. Robinson a call. A committee 
were appointed to remonstrate with the town, and with the 
council that should assemble to install Mr. Robinson. The 
discipline of members was then brought forward, their ac- 
cusation read, and Jive were excommunicated by a unani- 
mous vote." Two had been previously cut off, and two 
more were cut off afterward — nine in all — being the whole 
of what claimed to be Mr. Robinson's church. "It was the 
most interesting meeting I ever attended. I can conceive 
of few scenes more interesting to the painter than the one I 
have been detailing. 

"We have established a weekly prayer-meeting in the 
church, which I think will do good. Our Bible -class in- 
creases ; we have had one meeting in the evening, which is 
a new thing in this town, and which makes a great buzz, 
for which I care not a farthing. Mr. Robinson will be in- 
stalled soon. He is to marry a rich, simple, gay, and bitter 
girl in this place. He is as bitter against revivals and ex- 
perimental religion as is possible for the greatest infidel to 
be. They are calculating to make a great installation ball, 
and he is expected to attend with his lady, perhaps be one 
of the managers !" 

"October 5th. 

"The Sabbath before last I noticed an unusual solemnity 
on the faces of my people. I did not know why, but I could 
hardly keep from weeping all day. At the close of worship 
I observed that in all congregations where the Gospel is 
faithfully preached there are usually some who feel interest- 
ed in religion. There might be some such in this audience. 
If there were, they were invited to call the next evening at 
the house of Doctor Chaplin for free religious conversation. 
They stared, for it was the first meeting for inquiry ever 
held in this town. I was a little fearful how it would take, 



LIFE AT GROTOK 173 

and did not expect that more than some four or five would 
come. The evening arrived ; I went into the room, and 
found eighteen present. Some of them were under deep 
conviction. None were professors ; all were more or less 
anxious. The next week I appointed another inquiry-meet- 
ing, and at the same time invited those of the church who 
wished for the salvation of men to assemble in the opposite 
room for prayer. They did so. The church meeting was 
full. They were warmed, animated, and often very tender. 
In the room opposite I found twenty-six inquirers, and every 
one in tears. Their convictions of sin seem deep and power- 
ful ; they are still ; there is no noise. No less than fourteen 
are beginning to indulge a hope that they have been born 
again. They are, however, very timid, as they should be. 
So far, every part of the work seems genuine and wrought by 
God. Religion and a revival are all I think of or talk of; 
but I am all alone, and my anxieties and duties are im- 
mense." 

To Rev. J. Brace. 

" October 23d. 
"I have now about forty on my inquiry-list; of these 
about twenty -five are hoping that they have been born 
again. I am at a sad stand, not knowing how to manage 
an inquiry-meeting. I have it in the evening in a private 
room, and the church kneeling in prayer in the opposite 
room. I manage them thus : I go to my closet, confess my 
sins, try to feel them, go into the room, read a short portion 
in the Bible, remark briefly upon it, kneel in prayer (all 
kneeling), rise, then go round and converse in a low whisper 
with them individually, inquiring out their feelings, and 
pressing immediate repentance upon them, trying to shake 
false hopes, and sifting them, keeping them off from hoping 
as long as I can. When I have gone half round in this 
manner, I leave them silent, go into the church-meeting, tell 
them what are the appearances, try to keep them humble, 
and excite to prayer, then go back into my meeting, kneel in 
prayer, then go round to the rest, giving each attention as 
seems to be needed. I then address them aloud, as a body, 
pointing out the path of true repentance, and what real re- 
ligion is. I then close with prayer, and tell them to go 
home immediately, or else they would linger. I do not en- 



174 JOHN TODD. 

courage much weeping or passion, but solemnity, and an 
awful sense of God's presence. I encourage none to hope ; 
they will do this soon enough. Is this course judicious? is 
it best? I am a mere babe in experience, and I tremble 
when they come to my meeting. I do not yet like the at- 
titude of the church, though they have altered most won- 
derfully within a few weeks. They really begin to seem 
like other Christians. Many of them are yet complaining 
of their coldness, though I do not allow them to do it be- 
fore me, without reproving them for it. The .Unitarians are 
filling up their excommunicated church with Universalists, 
swearers, etc., and even went so far as to propound a man 
and his wife without their knowledge. They were quite of- 
fended, and would not come forward to the communion. 
Don't you think they were unreasonably obstinate ?" 

"November 2d. 

"I spent Monday in writing a remonstrance from this 
church, to be laid before the Unitarian council which met 
yesterday to install Robinson. It was nearly the length of 
a sermon, and as severe as argument could make it. I know 
not how they swallowed the cud ; but if they did not find it 
a bitter pill, I am a poor judge of human nature. That they 
got it down is certain, and it had fully as much effect as I 
expected it would have. The remonstrance took the ground, 
(1.) That a religious teacher or pastor can not be called or 
settled over this church and parish without the joint concur- 
rence of each body, expressed by a separate vote. (2.) That 
the Rev. Charles Robinson has never been invited to become 
our pastor by the joint concurrence of the first church and 
parish in Groton. The council, recognizing the body that 
remained with the parish as the church, rejected the second 
of these propositions, and, therefore, it was unnecessary to 
settle the first. The installation-day was spent by the se- 
ceded church as a day of fasting and prayer. They met at 
the house of Doctor Chaplin. There were two ministers be- 
sides myself present. The meeting was over three hours 
long, and the best meeting I ever attended in my life, de- 
cidedly so. It will do my people good." 

" November 18th. 

" For the last few days I have been much occupied in the 
steps preparatory to the organization of a new church in this 



LIFE AT GROT OK 175 

place. I have gone so far as to take the following steps : 
(1.) Have selected twenty-six out of the converts, half of 
each sex, for the foundation of the church. (2.) Have ex- 
amined them publicly before the members of the old church. 
(3.) Have drawn up a system of articles of faith and cove- 
nant, and had it approved by the candidates, and also by 
the old church. (4.) Have invited an ecclesiastical council 
to convene here next week, to organize this church, if they 
think proper. The articles, covenant, etc., are as orthodox 
as pen and paper could make them. The object, as you will 
at once see, is, to begin de novo, to let the old church stand 
as it does, to fight out the battle, and yet to have a regular 
church to go into the new meeting-house, and occupy it, 
when finished. So far every thing has worked as I could 
have wished. It is a very delicate business to manage, and 
a slight indiscretion would upset the dish." The articles 
and covenant here referred to were successively adopted 
without change by every church over w r hich Mr. Todd was 
settled, and are to-day found in their manuals. 

"December 2d. 
"On Tuesday, November 21st, the council convened, the 
old church being present. The candidates for admission were 
brought in for examination, five at a time. The articles of 
faith and covenant had previously been read and approved 
by the council. The examination of the candidates occupied 
from nine to one o'clock. At two, the whole congregation 
assembled in the academy. The sermon, as also the admis- 
sion and baptism, was by Rev. Doctor Church, of Pelham ; 
consecrating prayer, by Rev. Mr. Palmer, of Townsend ; right 
hand of fellowship, by Rev. Mr. Edwards, of Andover. It 
was the most solemn scene I ever witnessed. The whole 
audience (except a few Unitarians) were melted. Five re- 
ceived baptism, and thirty were admitted, fifteen of each sex. 
The church was consecrated by the name of ' The Union 
Church of Christ in Groton,' a name of my selection, as I 
hope the two orthodox churches will one day be united. 
Thus, under God, have I been the means of organizing a new 
church in this dark part of our land. It is small, but I trust 
its foundations are strong and pure. I believe it to be built 
on the Rock Christ Jesus. To him would I give all the 
glory. 

12 



IT 6 JOHN TODD. 

"Would you think it? At our last evening lecture the 
Unitarians set a trap for my poor self, intending to catch me 
and break my bones ! The next morning- it was currently 
reported among them that Mr. Todd had met with a sad ac- 
cident, having broken his ankle, returning from an evening 
meeting. But thy servant was not caught." The "trap " 
was a rope stretched across the dark staircase leading down 
from the upper hall of the academy. It was Mr. Todd's prac- 
tice to close the meeting, and then, as he stood nearest the 
door, to go out first. This habit was well known; and the 
rope was apparently designed to trip him up and throw him 
down the stairs, and perhaps break his neck. The attempt 
was made more than once, but was always discovered in 
time to prevent harm. "This was not the worst they did. 
The night was very dark, and the meeting very full. On 
our coming out, the carriages were in a dangerous situation. 
Most of the reins were unbuckled and tied to the collars; 
most of the linchpins were taken out and thrown away. 
Some thirty lives were exposed ; but the good providence of 
God so ordered it, that the whole affair was discovered before 
any one was hurt." Within a few years, in the repairing of 
some old wooden steps, these linchpins were found concealed 
beneath them. " It is not known who the individuals were 
who did it ; but this is a fair specimen of the Unitarian spirit 
of this place and region. I should not be surprised if our 
new meeting-house should be burned down by them. They 
have a mortal dread of me. They see I am laying plans and 
springing traps that will eventually revolutionize this place. 
It is out of the question for them to attempt to stop the in- 
fluence of Bible-preaching upon this community. Our peo- 
ple are actually afraid that poor I shall get stabbed or shot 
dead in some of my evening walks. I have no such fears. 
They have the wrong man to be moved by threats or flat- 
tery. Both have been abundantly tried. Since the revival, 
they have hardly dared to be seen at any of our meetings ; 
they are sore afraid. Over ninety have attended my inquiry- 
meetings, though some of these were from neighboring towns, 
and frequently came seven or eight miles. About fifty among 
my people have obtained a hope — such a hope, I trust, as will 
never forsake them. I pray God the work may not be stop- 
ped. The Unitarians yesterday offered our people a thou- 



LIFE AT GBOTON. 177 

sand dollars if they would ' sign off,' and form a distinct par- 
ish. And yet they pretend we have no claims there ! It is, 
doubtless, all out of pure, disinterested benevolence. There 
is one subject which I have not yet mentioned, as it is one 
I dread to think upon. I have been hoping that the provi- 
dence of God would open a way of escape from this place of 
turmoil and anxiety. I have been the means, under God, of 
placing the falling standard of truth on these walls, and I 
have been hoping some other one would be sent to hold it 
up, and I should be permitted to leave this trying post. But 
God knows what is best. The new 'Union Church' here 
have given me a unanimous call to become their pastor. 
Their affectionate call now lies before me." The call pro- 
posed that the ordination should take place at the time of 
the dedication of the new meeting-house, and pledged the 
church to pay a salary of eight hundred dollars, or one hun- 
dred more than the salary of the Unitarian minister; which, 
when it is considered that orthodox people had no fund, or 
men of wealth, and were still taxed for the support of the 
Unitarian worship too, must certainly be considered very 
liberal. 

The question of the acceptance of this call was at once 
laid before the young lady whose interests were most at 
stake in it, with the request that she and her friends would 
decide it. But they were unwilling to assume any such re- 
sponsibility, and no answer was returned. After waiting for 
a fortnight in vain, and having no one to advise with, he 
made the decision for himself. In the letter announcing 
this decision to the church, he says : " When I began and 
when I completed my studies, preparatory to preaching the 
Gospel of Christ, I had marked out a very different path of 
life from that which I am now treading. I had hoped that 
God would deem me worthy to go to some foreign heathen 
land, and proclaim 'the unsearchable riches of Christ' among 
some people upon whom the Sun of Righteousness never 
shone. I had expected to lay my bones in some distant 
clime, far from kindred and friends and my native shores. 
I had pictured in my mind months and years of toil, and 
then the little church planted in the darkness of heathenism, 
like a light breaking through the gloom of midnight; and 
then I had hoped to die there, and sleep there till the morn- 



178 JOHN TODD. 

ing of the resurrection, and then to awake to receive a crown 
of glory from the hand of Him who died for sinners. Such 
were my expectations. But there is an -overruling Provi- 
dence who is wiser than we. It was an unseen hand that 
first led me to this place ; and the same mysterious wisdom 
hath since led you and me to the spot on which we now 
stand. God himself seemed to hedge up my way, so that 
from my first acquaintance with you to the present hour I 
have seen no time when I dared leave you. His interposi- 
tions and tokens of approbation have been so manifest in 
your behalf that it would be the height of ingratitude not to 
acknowledge his great goodness, and not to trust him im- 
plicitly for the future I have watched your prospects 

for the year past with an interest that has often been painful. 
I have seen the cloud rise and hang over you, and then seen 
it burst and the floods rush over you. But the cloud is with- 
drawing, and the Dove that lighted on our Saviour's head at 
his baptism is now spreading the wings of mercy over you. 
As a monument of the everlasting kindness of God, the in- 
fant church whom I now address has arisen from the desola- 
tions of this Zion ; and I pray God she may long stand ' the 
pillar and ground of the truth,' with her mouth filled with 
praise and her hands uplifted in prayer, till her glory go 
forth as the sun in his strength. Being free from all other 
special engagements, I hereby signify my acceptance of your 
invitation." 

The close of the year saw a great change in old Groton. 
The slumber of generations had been broken as by the last 
trumpet. In eight short months the greater part of the old 
church had been roused to do their duty; a great revival 
had brought one hundred and sixteen to inquire the way of 
life, and affected the whole community; a new church of 
thirty members had been organized, and eighteen more stood 
propounded; a congregation three or four times as large as 
any other in town had been gathered ; a class of two or three 
hundred were studying the Bible; a new meeting-house had 
been built, and stood ready to be dedicated ; and the man 
who had been the means of accomplishing all this was about 
to enter its pulpit as a settled pastor. Surely there was 
truth as well as beauty in the opening sentence of the letter 
missive which summoned a council to dedicate and to or- 



LIFE AT GROT OK 179 

dain : "The church of the living God in this town has for a 
long time been sitting in affliction. The cloud still hangs 
heavy over her. But the great Head of the Church has of 
late been visiting the desolations of this Zion, and the ran- 
somed are beginning to take down their harps from the wil- 
lows." 



180 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

life at geoton — continued. 

Ordination.— Dedication.— Shawls without Fringes. — Sale of Pews.— Reviv- 
als. — Sickness. — A hard Journey. — A Sunday-evening Meeting. — Girdling 
Trees. — The Bride.— Examination. — A great Barn of a Thing. — Sunday- 
school begun. — Active Ladies. — A judicious Pig. — The new Horse. — An 
unexpected Arrival.— A Week of Hope.— Fears. — A household Baptism. 
— Tears in the Pulpit. — A sad Evening. — The Rose-bud plucked. — A little 
Funeral. — Memories. 

The 3d of January, 1827, was an important day for the in- 
fant Union Church. In the afternoon the pastor-elect was 
solemnly ordained by a council called for the purpose, Doc- 
tor Lyman Beecher, then pastor of the Hanover Street 
Church, in Boston, preaching the sermon. In the forenoon 
the new meeting-house was solemnly dedicated to the wor- 
ship of the Triune God. In inviting the people to join in 
the act of consecration, the preacher, who was the young pas- 
tor-elect, with a beautiful Christian spirit, exhorted them to 
cherish no bitterness of feeling in the remembrance of the 
past : 

" In looking back, you who have erected this house will be 
in danger of indulging hard and unchristian feelings. But 
do it not. It is true you have seen a strong hand stopping 
the church of God on the very door-steps of the i old sanctu- 
ary ;' and you have seen age and sobriety and religion cast 
out, and unholy hands drawing aside the curtain from before 
the holy of holies, and the awful mysteries within brought 
forth to vulgar gaze. You have seen — but stop ! The his- 
tory of this house will be unfolded at the great day of ac- 
counts. It has cost you many tears and sacrifices ; but weep 
no more. All is written in the book of God above. Weep 
no more. Rejoice in the great goodness of God which you 
have experienced. I call upon you to lay aside every hard, 
every unholy feeling, and come in the spirit of Jesus, and 
unite with me while we now solemnly consecrate this house 
to God." 



LIFE AT GROTOK 181 

Some idea of the interest that was felt in the new meet- 
ing-house, and of the sacrifices that were made for it, will 
be obtained from the fact that " almost all the active women 
and girls cut off half of the long fringe of their shawls to 
make a rug for the pulpit." One lady said that she would 
rather her husband should sell half his farm than that the 
undertaking should fail. 

" On the Sabbath after the ordination I administered the 
communion — an afternoon service. My great house was full: 
I was astonished at the multitude of people. I want you 
should become acquainted with my people during this re- 
vival. You can have no possible idea of the change that 
has taken place in society since I came here. Three miles 
west of me is a beautiful river, called the Squanecook — the 
Indian name. Here a part of my parishioners live, and here 
multitudes of heathen live. My friends are preparing me a 
pretty chapel over at this spot, and as soon as it is finished 
I am to open a battery there." 

A week or two later: "The pews in our meeting-house 
were put up at auction. The highest went at about one 
hundred and twenty dollars. I believe some ten or twelve 
went at over one hundred dollars each. Enough were sold 
to pay for the expense of land and building, and then we 
have from fifteen hundred to two thousand dollars' worth 
of pews left. These will be reserved to rent. Every body 
was astonished at the sale of the pews, and the Unitarians 
stand in wonder." 

All this time the revival continued unabated. "Eleven 
are now propounded for admission into my church, and as 
many as twelve more are hoping : a hundred and eighty on 
my inquiry-list." This religious interest seems to have been 
wide-spread. " Revivals of religion are quite astonishing in 
this part of our land. Boston is yet all in a ferment. Great 
good will undoubtedly result. In Lowell there are a hun- 
dred inquirers, and fifty hoping. In Andover, Mr. Edwards 
opened an inquiry-meeting last week, and thirty attended. 
Almost every one in the academy is under deep conviction 
or rejoicing; in Bradford almost the whole academy. In 
Portsmouth and all the towns around it — towns where they 
have been a desolation and without a pastor for half a cent- 
ury — there are great revivals." 



182 JOHN TODD. 

The severe and continuous labor and excitement of this 
protracted revival at last began to tell upon the pastor's 
health. 

" February 22d. 

"A fortnight ago to-day I wrote you. The next day I 
was taken sick with a slow fever. On Sabbath I did not sit 
up. Monday and Monday night, was quite light-headed. 
Since, I have sat up about half the time. Last Sabbath I 
made out to preach. This week I have been gradually on 
the mending hand, though I gain but slowly. Thus my 
meetings have been mostly checked, which has cost me 
much anxiety. I know the Lord can carry on his work in 
his own way, but as this way is usually through the use of 
human means, I feel sorry to have them stop. Nothing is 
the matter except a running -down of my strength, which, 
with kind care, I hope soon to regain." 

Even before this attack his need of rest had been so ap- 
parent that, a favorable opportunity of supplying his pulpit 
offering, it had been arranged that he should take a vacation 
of two or three weeks early in March, and that his marriage 
should take place during his absence — some weeks earlier 
than had previously been intended. 

His journey to Newington at this season of the year was 
necessarily tedious. " It rained in torrents, and, what was 
worse, there were sloughs and snow-banks in abundance, 
so that every now and then the passengers had to get out 
and lift, and push and tug, to keep the carriage from turn- 
ing keel up. Of course I lifted among the rest, though, as 
you may suppose, I was not quite as stout as some. I got 
wet and cold. We were three hours and a half in going 
nine miles. We had a noisy, story-telling crew, sometimes 
laughing, yelling, hooting, drinking, and swearing. We had 
no lady to protect us from the coarseness of their language. 
I neither ate nor slept till after eleven o'clock last evening. 
I arrived here yesterday toward three o'clock, quite cold and 
worn out. My feet were not dry from the time I left Boston 
till I got home. All my perils by land and by water, by 
storms and colds, were soon forgotten when once more among 
my friends. You had kept me so long at Groton that I was 
almost a stranger here, but am becoming acquainted slowly. 
I should say that in the course of a week I could feel quite 



LIFE AT GROTON. 183 

at home. Formerly I used to eat mince-pies, and cakes, and 
fruits, and all manner of delectables, when here; but now I 
can only sit and gaze. However, amidst all such privations 
(which to men of our taste are very great), I do not feel pe- 
culiarly unhappy in my present situation. How to give in- 
vitations for the occasion has been the anxious question since 
I came. They can not invite fifty without offending five hun- 
dred. On the whole, as the most safe and judicious method, 
we have concluded to have the oath administered publicly in 
the meeting-house, on the evening of the coming Sabbath." 

This somewhat unusual programme was actually carried 
out. After preaching twice on the Sabbath (March 11th), 
the bride being one of his hearers, the bridegroom-elect in 
the evening led the fairest girl in the village, and the sweet- 
est singer in the choir, to the front of the pulpit, and they 
were married by her father, " with appropriate remarks." 
A very " small reception, after the ceremony," to which only 
the family and immediate neighbors were invited, completed 
the solemnities, and gave sufficient offense. 

It was the intention of the bridegroom to take his wife, 
first of all, down to East Guilford, to see some of his rela- 
tives ; but want of time and strength made it impossible. In 
writing his excuse to his sister Charlotte, he added, " I lately 
received a package of letters from Vermont, containing let- 
ters from Jonathan, Eliza, and Sister P . They all seemed 

to be pretty well except Jonathan, who was feeble. He men- 
tions his little John, about a year old, one of the greatest 
rogues that ever walked. So I suppose he inherits some of 
the virtues of his uncle. They all scold at me and about you, 
because, say they, we have been most unwarrantably negli- 
gent in our correspondence. I know not how you may an- 
swer the accusation, but for myself I immediately dispatched 
a huge sheet, almost as big as a barn-door, hoping it would 
still the storm ; and I advise you to do the same. Jona- 
than and Eliza are very good-natured; but as for Sister 

P , she is in quite a pet. A strange sister, that ! but 

there are some people who, if you put them in Paradise, will 
girdle the trees." 

The wedding tour consisted in the stage ride to Boston, 
and thence, after a visit of a day or two, to Groton. " The 
journey was so horrible, that I almost shudder to review it. 



184 JOHN TODD. 

Mary stood it fully as well as I did. It is just as I told you ; 
she is becoming so popular, that I must hereafter stand in 
the background. I have several times overheard them whis- 
pering, ' What a charming woman our Mrs. Todd is!' 'We 
are all delighted with her.' * She is a great addition to our 
society,' etc., etc." It was arranged that the newly married 
pair should go to housekeeping about the 1st of May, and 
meantime should board at the old minister's. " We have 
a pretty parlor at our command, and an agreeable chamber 
over it, with a small chamber to put clothes in, etc. — giving 
us two fires. We are to have board, washing, wood, lights, 
horse and chaise, etc., as we need, for five dollars a week 
for both. In the parlor we receive calls ; in the chamber 
we study, sleep, and work. In the morning and evening 
we read and pray together, one reading the English and the 
other looking on the Greek alternately. Then we study the 
Bible together. Mary sings also at times, at my request, 
and for my particular benefit. Our hymn-books are just 
alike. I bought her a beautiful Watts's Psalms and Hymns 
at Boston, and our people had put a carpet in her pew be- 
fore our return. Her new hat very much becomes her. It is 
leghorn, simple, trimmed with white satin, and lined with the 
same. Wednesday we dedicate our little chapel at Squane- 
cook." 

"April 9th. 
"Last Wednesday evening candidates were examined to 
be admitted into my church — five besides my dear Mary, 
four of them fine young men. The house was full, crowded, 
a very interesting meeting. Mary bore her part wonder- 
fully ; and lest they should think I was partial, the examina- 
tion was severe. I could not wish her to do better. She 
is now a member of our church." Mr. Todd himself never 
joined any church of which he was pastor, but to the day 
of his death remained a member of the church in Yale Col- 
lege. He was opposed, on principle, to a pastor's becoming 
one of his own flock. " On Fast-day I preached — morn- 
ing, on intemperance ; afternoon, on slavery. I suppose my 
morning sermon will probably make 'no small stir' in town, 
for I drew and hewed with a broad-axe. Among other in- 
teresting items, I told them we should not keep any spirits 
in our family, not even wine." 



LIFE AT OBOTOK 185 

To 3frs. Lucy Brace. 

"April 12th. 

"I can conceive something of your feelings, my dear 
mother, in having us leave you, though probably nothing as 
you do. I feel for you in these trying circumstances, but 
all I can do for you is to thank you, and that most unfeign- 
edly, for giving me so great a treasure. We are perfectly 
happy, and, so far as I know myself, it will ever be my high- 
est ambition to make your dear child happy to the utmost 
extent of my power. I could wish it in my power to do 
more for her in the way of property, but I need not tell 
you how little, on the whole, of real happiness depends upon 
mere drapery. There is one thing that troubles me, my dear 
mother, and that badly; it is your health. Martha says it 
is poor, and you hint the same. What shall I say ? I say, 
do spare yourself. I fear your anxiety respecting us has 
worn upon you. If I may give my advice, I would say, get 
help, and spare yourself labor till June, and then ship off for 
Groton. I feel confident it would do you good; and you 
must do it. We urge it, we entreat it. You say you love 
us, and we do not and can not doubt it; do, then, for our 
sakes, be careful. The things appear to have come finely, 
though we have not as yet opened, many. Very many 
thanks do we owe you, and do we give you, best of mothers, 
for your great goodness to us. We do and will love you ; 
do and will pray for you; and will do all in our power to 
make you happy in this life, and we will hope to meet in 
a world where separations are unknown and sorrows come 
not. I have not shed a tear since I left you, till I took up 
your letter; but now my eyes fill, and now they overflow." 

The only house that could be obtained for the young 
couple was probably the most unsuitable one in town. It 
was a great barn of a thing, "in the confusion of business," 
very much out of repair, and commanding a high rent. Be- 
fore taking possession of it, Mr. Todd wrote, " Nothing in our 
prospects is so gloomy as our great and expensive house." 
And after a few months' trial of it, he expressed the opinion 
that " it is the most villainous house that ever stood with so 
respectable a character. 

"It fronts east, three stories in front and four behind. It 
is light straw color, with new green window-blinds, fourteen 



186 JOHN TODD. 

• • 

windows in front. You come in, turn to the left, and our 
parlor is there. Opposite is a room for small meetings, pri- 
vate conversations, etc. Back of the parlor, kitchen, and 
cellar-kitchen beneath. Back of the other front room, two 
store-rooms and a dining-room. Second story, over the par- 
lor, my study; opposite, our sleeping-room. Back of my 
study, best chamber; back of our chamber, workshop and 
another chamber. Third story, two chambers and a beau- 
tiful hall for meetings, capable of holding three hundred. 
Here I have my Bible-class, and many meetings. It costs 
us considerable, but we make this a part of our annual char- 
ities." But this was not the only cost. So many meetings 
in the third story involved a great deal of labor, and carry- 
ing of chairs and lamps up and down. And, besides, for the 
sake of company in that great ark, and with a view to re- 
ducing the rent, Mr. Elizur Wright, the principal of the 
academy, and a lady teacher, and one or two boys, were re- 
ceived into the family as boarders. All this brought upon 
the young wife an amount of labor which, with insufficient 
" help," she was unable to perform, and which soon produced 
disastrous results. For a time, however, all went well. The 
"workshop" was fitted up with a rude lathe and a few join- 
er's tools, and was really useful as a place of manufacture 
as well as exercise. The garden was more of a failure. " I 
do long for a garden more than I ever supposed I should. 
We have land enough for a noble garden, but it is so wet 
and cold that we can hot use it to any advantage. I see no 
w r ay to remedy this evil. Gardens are not very much at- 
tended to here. 

"As to this place, the struggle is still continuing. Unita- 
rians are active, and so are w T e. They swear much, and we 
pray a little. Our Bible-class continues with unabated in- 
terest. It never was more flourishing. Our hall is filled. 
Unitarians come in also. We have commenced a Sabbath- 
school, between eighty and ninety scholars. The Unitarians 
followed us immediately, and are scouring the town for 
scholars. We have collected twenty-five dollars to begin a 
library for our school. The Unitarians immediately followed 
us, and got twenty dollars to form their library." 






LIFE AT GBOTON. 187 

From Mrs. Todd. 

"The Unitarians are very much troubled to keep their 
people together. The Hon. Mr. Lawrence said in Boston, 
4 There is a fanatic in Groton who has made a great noise, 
and has gathered the lower class of people about him, and, 
what is worst of all, he is picking from the other society.' 
Almost every day some strange story comes. One of the 
Unitarians came along the other day, and said to our next 
neighbor, who is also a Unitarian, ' Do you smell Mr. Todd's 
prayers? I should think he had got near enough.' Last 
week we had a meeting of the ladies to form a charitable as- 
sociation. About thirty-five were present, and several have 
since joined it. We hope to get seventy-five. Of course I 
am dignified with the office of president. Some of our be- 
nevolent ladies, finding that the children in the poor-house 
did not attend any Sabbath-school, determined to fit them 
out. They went about it immediately, and on the morn- 
ing that they had fixed upon to go and carry the clothes, 
the committee went over and forbade their going to our 
meeting, and said they would clothe them themselves. They 
had passed a vote in the spring that they would not fit them 
out to go to meeting anywhere. On Tuesday afternoon we 
had a meeting of between thirty and forty of our ladies to 
clean the meeting-house. It was swept and washed thor- 
oughly from beginning to end with hot water — pews, aisles, 
galleries, stairs, etc., all scoured with soap and sand — and it 
produced a great change. When the proposal was first 
made, many were in astonishment, for it has been con- 
sidered almost a disgrace to go and clean the meeting- 
house. Nobody could be hired to go and do it. This is 
another evidence of the readiness of our people for every 
good work. I do not believe that we should find a people 
who would treat us more kindly, or appear to love us more, 
than ours have done so far." 

From Mr. Todd to Mrs. Zaicy Brace. 

"August 2d. 
"Our dearest Mother, — We want to tell you a thou- 
sand things, all in the same breath ; but as you are good at 
picking out a troublesome skein of thread, so you can pick 



188 JOHN TODD. 

out all our little items of intelligence as you please. But 
time and paper are wasting, and, after all, I shall forget what 
I am going to say. I am in a hurry, have dipped my pen 
several times while thinking how and where to begin. I 
can not stop to tell you how father's letter at last came 
to hand; how it gratified us all to know you were in the 
land of the living; how the little books did not come to 
hand, and then, after a long time, they did come to hand ; 
how Mr. Wright was delighted, and cheered, and swelled on 
the occasion (and while my finger is on the little fellow, I 
must just wink to you that I believe he is courting our land- 
lord's daughter, a pretty, wee bit of a thing, with a fine neck 
and good teeth, and large, rolling black eyes, and a little 
lisping voice, and small feet, with which she bewitches the 
little fellow. I really don't know but our happiness — Mary's 
and mine — will excite our very pig to fall in love, for so 
every thing else does that comes near us; even the philo- 
sophical Mr. H came near falling into a swamp) ; how 

the New England school flourishes, as also does the large 
one, and we have a hundred and thirty scholars; how our 
hens have actually left us, though the pig sticks by and 
holds on well, though he has had a bad cough, and came 
near going into a consumption ; and how about the same 
time (last week on Monday) his dear master was also taken 
sick, and hardly sat up till Monday following, and was un- 
able to preach last Sabbath, but is now slowly recovering. 
But I must stop, for want of breath, and begin anew. This 
is the reason why we did not write before, viz., my sickness 
(not the pig's)." 

"Later. 
"Our pig continues to maintain his character as a judi- 
cious and talented pig. He is such a gentleman in his way, 
that we shall regret to kill him. You remember we told 
you how we had two hens given us, and how they ran off 
to our neighbor's. Well, this was slander, base slander ! for, 
lo and behold ! the yellow hen (the other is speckled) came 
off a few days since with six most beautiful little chicks, and 
did it all in our own barn! We immediately made her a 
glorious coop (just four feet square), and there she is, edu- 
cating her children." 



LIFE AT QROTON. 189 

"August 8th. 

" Early in the morning got into Mr. Chaplin's old wagon 
with Mr. Chaplin, and set our faces toward New Ipswich — 
twenty miles. Oar journey was to buy a horse. I had seen 
one here more than a year ago which I liked very much. 
Very dusty. Arrived at about one o'clock. Found Captain 
Solomon Davis at home ; looked at his horse : raised it him- 
self; seven years old this summer; black star in forehead; 
fine build ; very gentle, but full of life ; a great jumper; no 
fence in the State can check it. We liked the creature. His 
name is Charles. Captain Davis asked a hundred and thirty 
dollars. We played the jockey. There were several cir- 
cumstances in our favor : (1.) He jumped so badly that they 
could not manage him. This was no objection to me. (2.) 
They were already determined to sell him. (3.) They were 
exceedingly attached to the horse, and dreaded to have him 
sold where he would be abused. I made an offer. The 
women and children set in that I should have their "dear 
Charles," as they believed I would take good care of him. 
At last my offer was accepted, and I took the horse for a 
hundred dollars, and ran in debt for him. We put him in 
the wagon, and led old Charley. He got away, and we had 
to chase him over fences and meadows, and through corn 
and through thorns, for miles, before Ave caught the old 
creature. Got home in the evening exceedingly fatigued. 
My dear Mary was glad to see Charles, and quite as glad to 
see me. She likes Charles very much, and is going to make 
me a gingham apron, with sleeves, for me to clean him in." 

"Later. 

" Our horse answers, and more than answers, every expec- 
tation. He is a beautiful creature, and I must add what 
you won't like to hear, that ours is the handsomest horse 
and chaise in town. But they are both new, you must re- 
member." 

" September 10th. 
"'Why don't we keep Mary for hired help?' For three 
special reasons: (1.) We don't want her; (2.) She has the 
rheumatism so that she can do nothing ; (3.) She is pub- 
lished, and is on the very brink of matrimony. All that we 
have to say on this point more is, (1.) We have had miser- 
able help for some weeks past ; (2.) We have engaged a 

13 



190 JOHN TODD. 

new girl, and expect her this week. At her approach we 
hope many troubles will vanish. I take care of ray horse 
Charles myself, but very much need a boy. Every thing 
thus far goes well with us. People wonder, and congratu- 
late us on having all go so ' glibly ' and smoothly. It does 
so ; but then, as you know, it needs a prodigious power at 
the crank to keep the wheels in motion, and great care to 
prevent their tendency to friction." 

But the sunshine was now interrupted by a cloud of real 
trouble, which gathered suddenly and unexpectedly. 

" There are a thousand impressions which we receive dur- 
ing our earthly pilgrimage, and which at the time, are in- 
teresting, and often deep and solemn. But as soon as they 
have gone by, and we return to the active pursuits of life, 
they gradually become less and less vivid till they are 
wholly gone. All can look back to such events, and they 
seem like pleasant or troubled dreams; and all wish that 
they had something to recall the circumstances of the scenes, 
so that they could live them over in all their detail. It is 
for this purpose I now write these pages, that when one and 
another event shall have partially obliterated what now 
seems as if it could never be forgotten, I may recall it to 
my own mind and feelings, and to those of my dear wife. 
For her eye and mine alone I write. 

" Our dear little boy was born at sunrise, October 6th, 
1827. Mrs. Todd had been remarkably well and active 
since our marriage, and probably his premature birth was 
owing to her over-exertion. At his birth, none seemed to 
think he could live but a short time ; but with great exer- 
tions he was made to revive. He was small, but promised, 
humanly speaking, to do well. He soon opened his eyes, 
and began to notice sounds and objects of sight. For a 
week we had no fears concerning him, and enjoyed as much 
as parents could enjoy. When I went out, I hastened home 
to see my dear child lie in his mother's arras, and, at the 
sound of my voice, open his dark-blue eyes and turn them 
toward me. We began to talk of a name, and in my own 
mind I had begun to form many little plans concerning him. 

"As we had been married not quite seven months, the 
enemies of religion at first made a great noise about it, and 
threw out a multitude of stories; but as it was well known 



LIFE AT GJtOTOK 191 

that I had not been out of Groton for eight months previous 
to our marriage, and as Mrs. Todd's character stood far 
above all suspicion, the stories only buzzed a while through 
the region, never disturbing us, and never injuring us in the 
least. 

"On Saturday, the little boy being a week old, we 
weighed him again, and found that he had lost. Here I 
first began to fear that he would not be spared to us. Still, 
he seemed well, and his nurse appeared to have no fears con- 
cerning him. 

" In the afternoon of the same day he was evidently sick, 
and w r e. began to be alarmed. Every thing was done for 
him which could be. That night he rested pretty well. 

"Sabbath morning he was evidently very sick — appeared 
to have something like fits — and during breakfast he turned 
so black as greatly to alarm his mother; but from this he 
soon recovered. I was obliged to leave at half- past ten 
o'clock, to go into the pulpit. I left the child in his nurse's 
arms, and tears in the eyes of his mother. I endeavored to 
conceal my fears and feelings, and w T ent into the pulpit with 
a heavy heart. As soon as possible I was at home, and 
found the child worse, and his mother greatly distressed. 
It was then evident that he could not live. When I really 
came to the conclusion that he must die — our own sweet 
boy, our first-born, must die — it was almost insupportable. 
As we then came to the conclusion that he must leave us, 
we determined to give him formally to our covenant- God 
in baptism. I immediately wrote a note to our friend, Mr. 
Chaplin, requesting him to bring his venerable father down 
to baptize our dying child. Mrs. Todd's dressing-table was 
placed before her bed, the baptismal font was placed on it, 
and the family stood around the room. The child was in 
the arms of the nurse. The venerable old man, Doctor 
Chaplin, prayed with deep feeling and great appropriateness. 
I was kneeling by the side of the bed and holding my dear 
Mary's hand, while we both wept, and endeavored to give 
our child to God. The prayer ended, I took the dear babe 
in my arms and presented him to Doctor Chaplin. The old 
man was eighty-four years old, upward of six feet high, sil- 
ver locks, and the most venerable person I ever saw. Our 
child was eight days old, fair, well-proportioned, and seven- 



192 JOHN TODD. 

teen inches in length. Striking contrast, indeed ! He was 
solemnly baptized into the name of the Father, and of the 
Son, and of the Holy Ghost, by the name of John William — 
the former name being his father's, and the latter that of his 
friend. The bell rang for meeting while the ordinance was 
administering, and I was obliged to go again into the pulpit, 
expecting to find my child a corpse on my return. I walked 
alone to meeting, with my eyes flowing. It was an agony 
which I can remember, but can not describe. On entering 
the pulpit, I felt somewhat composed : attempted to read 
that beautiful hymn beginning, 

" ' It is the Lord, enthroned in light, 
Whose claims are all divine, 
Who has an undisputed right 
To govern me and mine.' 

"Immediately a thousand inexpressible feelings rushed 
through my heart. I choked, hesitated, faltered, wept, and 
sat down after reading one stanza. The audience felt for 
me, and very many wept. I preached as well as I could, 
hardly knowing what I was about, and again hastened 
home, and again found our dear child alive. 

"It was now toward night, and he continued to have 
spasms, in which he would turn black, groan, and seem to 
be in great pain. I sent immediately for a physician, who 
put him in warm water, and he revived ; but it was only for 
a time. During the whole afternoon the nurse held him in 
her lap without moving. In the evening, hoping it would 
endanger Mrs. Todd less, I had him removed into my study. 
He was carried out, and it was the last time his weeping 
mother ever saw him alive. I was in and out of the study 
during the evening, but was for the most part with my wife. 
At ten o'clock he had an awful spasm. I went in, and was 
told he was no more. I gazed at him : his beautiful little 
features were all composed and set, and it seemed as if Death 
had indeed now set his seal. All hope was cut off, all doubt 
removed. I returned to my dear Mary, and was obliged to 
tell her our first-born was no more. She burst into grief the 
most passionate, and it seemed as if her very frame would 
be crushed tinder the burden. We spake but little : it was, 
that God ruled ; that our dear boy had gone to his bosom ; 
that we trusted he would be among the angels, himself an 



LIFE AT GROTON. 193 

angel ; and that we should meet him again beyond the shores 
of mortality. I then knelt by the bed of Mrs. Todd, and we 
prayed, our right hands joined, and we committed and gave 
ourselves away to God. 

"At eleven o'clock I left Mrs. Todd and went into the 
study; and here was the most severe trial I was called to 
undergo. I found the child was not dead : he had revived, 
and was now in great agony ; it was' the agony of death. 
He was in the arms of Miss Chaplin, his eyes open, his 
arms thrown out, his little fists clenched, and every muscle 
brought into the most intense action. They dared do noth- 
ing to relieve the little sufferer. I immediately gave him 
paregoric, and anointed his chest with warm olive-oil. His 
pains were less intense after that. As he lay with his eyes 
open, I spoke to him, called him ' John ;' he turned his head 
and bright eyes toward me with an expressiveness that I 
shall never forget. I do not pretend he knew me or my 
voice ; but it was such a look as a dying child might wish 
to leave with his father, if he could choose. I sat without 
turning my eyes from him for an hour, and then returned to 
inform his mother that he was still living. I did not see' 
him again alive ; for he ceased to breathe soon after the Sab- 
bath was over. I never saw such suffering before ; and it 
seemed as if God had indeed cursed our race, and had most 
awfully written his displeasure with sinners on the features 
of our dying boy. Mysterious system ! that such a child 
should suffer so intensely ! But 6 clouds and darkness are 
round about Him,' which we trust will one day all be rolled 
away. 

" Early on Monday morning I opened my study door. The 
room was solitary, the windows open, and the cold winds of 
a chilly morning were sighing through the shutters. The 
room was in perfect order. In a corner, near my book-case, 
were two chairs, and a white cloth between them. I went 
slowly and lifted the cloth, and there lay my sweet boy, pale 
as the cloth which covered him ; the beautiful white robe 
of the grave was upon him ; his little hands were folded on 
his bosom ; he was dressed for the coffin. Never did I see 
a countenance so beautiful. Every part was well-propor- 
tioned and perfect. His dark-brown hair was parted on his 
forehead under his cap. It seemed as if death never could 



194 JOHN TODD. 

gather a fairer flower. I stood over him for a long time, 
and, if possible, loved my boy more in death than in life. 

"For fear of injuring Mrs. Todd, we had rather a private 
funeral, that afternoon, at half-past three o'clock. There may 
have been fifty present, all of whom seemed to feel for us. 
The good old man was our pastor. He talked well to us : 
they sung a hymn, and he made the prayer. The little creat- 
ure was put into a mahogany coffin, with a plate on the top 
with the following inscription: 'John W.Todd, who died 
October 15, 1827, aged nine days.' Without any parade or 
bell, he was carried in a chaise, and I rode alone in my chaise, 
and saw him softly laid in Doctor Chaplin's tomb, in the 
very spot where the good man himself expects to lie. When 
that event takes place, I intend to have him placed beside the 
old man's head, or on his breast, that in the morning of the 
Resurrection they may rise together. It seemed to be his 
wish to have him entombed there, and it was gratifying to 
us, for it seems as if even the grave would be sanctified by 
his remains." 

Years afterward he wrote : 

" I shall perish sooner than forget the feelings which I had 
clinging around our dear first-born. I know that we did 
not deserve him, and that it was all right; but my aching- 
heart too frequently goes back to that dear lost one, and the 
gems of all the earth could not compensate for the loss of 
that one. Is he now alive? Shall we ever know him ? Will 
that beautiful form ever come up again from the tomb ? Oh, 
the agony of that moment when the little coffin-lid was act- 
ually closed ! May God in mercy spare me from ever wit- 
nessing another such scene !" 



LIFE AT GROTON. 195 



CHAPTER XIV. 

life at groton — continued. 

How to get a Bell.— The best House in Town.— The haunted House.— Pat- 
tering of little Feet. — A Unitarian Funeral.— Immortal Hens. — Mission- 
ary Visitations. — A Kunaway. — An extraordinary Woman. — A Baby In- 
firmary. — Invitation to a Funeral declined.— The Letter. — A New-comer. 
— Death of Doctor Chaplin.— The bereaved Father. — A lazy Agent.— Med- 
icine with a Vengeance.— A pretty Girl.— The dying young Man.— Re- 
sults of the Groton Movement. — Author vs. Pastor. 

"In one year my people have done as follows: Meeting- 
house, $6000 ; horse-sheds, $1000 ; salary, $800 ; stoves, $120 ; 
communion furniture, $120; singing, $85; bell, $600; Sab- 
bath-school, $48; Bible -class, $100 ; total, $8873. Is not 
this doing well ? Three years ago it would have" been next 
to impossible to raise fifty dollars in town for any object 
connected with religion. They are a peculiar people, are in 
a peculiar situation, and my influence is and has been some- 
what peculiar. My influence in carrying a point is never di- 
rect. I come as near to it as possible without broaching it, 
and then set a few about it. For example : I wanted a bell, 
and knew not how to raise six hundred dollars. I felt of a 
few minds, and found they were off*. All was still. I then 
got three sets of subscription-papers ready, one for young 
men, one for elderly men, one for ladies. I then took a little 
strip of paper, and wrote the names of five active young men, 
about seventeen or eighteen years old. I then gave it to 
one of them, and requested him to invite them to my study. 
They came : I talked with them about the bell ; got them 
warmed up, just as dogs have their ears rubbed to make 
them fierce ; then gave them each a paper, to go to the 
young men in their several parts of the town. They did so, 
and got one hundred and eighty dollars. Very well. I 
next started the men ; and then the ladies. When the thing 
began, no one favored it but myself; and in all this I have 
kept entirely out of sight, and the people think they did it 
all. This is a tpecimen of my generalship.", 



196 JOHN TODD. 

In the beginning of 1828 an opportunity offered to oc- 
cupy half of one of the best houses in town at a low rent. 
A wide hall separated the vacant half from the part that 
was occupied by a small and respectable family, and the 
two tenements were. in other respects quite distinct. As 
the rent was kindly remitted for the first two months, Mr. 
and Mrs. Todd hastened to leave, even before the year for 
which they had hired it, the house which had been so unfort- 
unate a one for them, and had become so sorrowful. Hardly 
were they comfortably settled in their new home, when there 
began to be rumors that the house which they had left was 
" haunted." 

"It was a large, three -storied house, with brick ends, 
wood front and back. It was well lighted with a multitude 
of windows. It stood in the midst of a thick neighborhood, 
other houses clustering all around it. In short, there was 
nothing about the house, inside or out, that would lead one 
to suspect it was the place where ghosts would resort. It 
was the last place one would select for a murder to be com- 
mitted ; and yet the house was said to be haunted. It stood 
empty, and strange noises were heard in it. Sometimes it 
would seem to be filled with groans, then again w r ith sighs, 
and then the patter of little feet would be heard, and then 
the wails of an infant. The neighbors became excited. 
Some heard all sorts of noises, some only one, and some al- 
most heard them. In the night, when all was stillness and 
darkness, the noises were the most fearful. Some felt sure 
that ' all was not right there ;' some said ' strange secrets lie 
concealed within those walls ;' some were very sure that a 
murder had been committed there, and the dead one was 
haunting the place. They were not exactly sure whether 
the murdered one was a full-grown man, as the many groans 
would seem to indicate, or whether it was a little child, 
whose feet were pattering on the naked floor. They were 
almost afraid to go past the ' haunted house ' in the night, 
and no one, even in the daytime, dared to enter it. 

"As I had occupied the house last, and as I had lost my 
little infant boy there, it was natural that I should hear of 
it ; and though I believe no one actually accused me of mur- 
der, yet they shook their heads, and arched their brows, and 
thought ' the whole thing wonderfully strange.' At first I 



LIFE AT GROT OK 197 

paid no attention to it ; but as the hints became louder, and 
the whispers deeper, and the murmurs clearer, I saw it would 
injure the character of the house, and prevent the owner from 
renting it, even if it did not injure me. I must confess, how- 
ever, that though I could never hear any noises as I passed 
by in the evening, yet the testimony of so many staggered 
me. I determined, therefore, to investigate it myself, and 
that very quietly. So I procured the keys, and, strange to 
say, as I went toward the house, and was seen to have the 
hardihood to enter it alone, the neighbors gathered round 
the front door in the street to watch the result. I said noth- 
ing, but went in. A few moments satisfied me about 'the 
little feet that pattered on the floor.' There had been many 
such, for the rats had made the house their head-quarters, 
gnawing the floors, tearing off the paper from the walls, 
scattering the plaster, and leaving their little foot-prints very 
abundantly. But those groans ! I could find nothing that 
cast any light on them. The house was silent as a tomb. 
The sunlight streamed in the windows, and I had but to 
think over the hours of joy and sorrow I had passed there. 
There I had had a happy home, had rejoiced over my first- 
born child, and had there seen him breathe out his young 
spirit to God who gave it. From room to room I wandered, 
and all was silence till I opened the door of the chamber in 
which my child died. Then instantly there was a sharp, 
deep groan ! What could it mean ? The people about the 
door heard it, and what an awful feeling of terror went 
through them ! I was not frightened, but I was at a loss to 
account for it. It evidently had been called out by my 
opening the door. But the room was perfectly bare ; not a 
thing in it. Soon the groan was repeated. I now went to 
the chimney and tore away the fire-board, and looked up, and 
there, just in the throat of the fire-place, was — not a ghost, 
but — a shingle that had been blown into the chimney, and 
had fallen down and been lodged in the throat, so that it 
could swing backward and forward, and when the wind 
blew it would groan sharp, or shrill, or deep, according to 
the strength of the wind. Thus it was that, on my opening 
the door and letting the wind into the room, the shingle 
swung and nearly filled the throat, and the air rushed and 
groaned past it. I took pains to call up the people, and I 



198 JOHN TODD. 

verily believed they wished rather to go home than to go 
in. I put back the fire-board and opened the door, made 
them hear the groans, took away the fire-board again, showed 
the shingle, and how it rattled and groaned, then took it 
away, and put things back, and opened the door, and — there 
were no more groans. A little ratsbane scattered on the 
floor stopped ' the pattering of little feet,' and the house 
ceased to be haunted ! And yet it ivas haunted as really as 
any one ever was, as I verily believe !" 

" February 27th. 

" Doctor Chaplin has applied for his salary, and is going 
to sue for it, and that makes a big buzz in town. Our peo- 
ple are going to try to put new men into office in town, if 
possible, next week. I have many doubts as to their suc- 
ceeding. As things now appear, if we can persuade our 
people to stand just as they now do, the time will come 
when they will be a majority in this town. It is best that 
they should not do it at once ; for I should deprecate the ef- 
fects of sudden and unexpected victory while wrongs are un- 
forgotten — if that is an English word." 

"March 26th. 

"Mrs. Todd and myself have attended, on special invi- 
tation, the funeral of Mrs. Robinson (the young wife of the 
Unitarian minister). In the room of mourning w T ere Doc- 
tor R , of Concord ; Rev. Mr. W , of Littleton ; etc., 

besides the mourners. The Doctor was consoling them 
when we went in. I was glad to go, on Mrs. Todd's ac- 
count, who had never heard any Unitarian. As she did not 
take it in the natural way, I think she will not in any other, 
for she seems satisfied even with her minister in comparison. 
The Doctor said nothing about sin, depravity, atonement, 
repentance, regeneration, resurrection, or future retribution. 
Of course his remarks and prayer were, like the bones of the 
vision, 'very dry;' and they were ' very many 'too — a great 
deal of repetition, but not a single thought calculated to do 
any soul any good. Every thing future was dim and indis- 
tinct. By-the-way, the more indefinite your views are re- 
specting eternity, the less is your power over men in preach- 
ing. Hence the New Testament is everywhere as definite 
as human language and comparisons can describe unseen 
and unearthly things." 



LIFE AT GROTON. 199 

"April 18th. 

" We must once more mention our hens, though their 
very name is associated with gloom. They were doing- 
most judiciously, that is, the leader was crowing most man- 
fully, and the ladies had already afforded us one hundred 
and ten eggs, and were continuing to give us four per diem, 
when, lo and behold ! our neighbor wrote us a note inform- 
ing us that our hens annoyed him. How they did it we 
know not, save that they crowed and cackled, and thus raised 
a little demon called envy. So, as we could not think of kill- 
ing them, we gave them away to the old minister's family, 
who have promised to be kind to them. ' Sunt lacrymse re- 
rum et mentem mortalia tangunt.' The old hen is sitting on 
fifteen eggs, and is to follow as soon as she comes off. They 
were all beautiful in our eyes, and we almost wept when they 
departed. They must now probably finish their course like 
vulgar hens, and have no one to give them immortality. 

"At our weekly prayer-meeting before the public fast, I 
proposed to my church to spend the forenoon of Fast-day 
in prayer, and in devising ways of doing good for the ensu- 
ing season. They agreed to it, and appointed a committee 
of four to report on that occasion — one on the Bible-class, 
another on the Sabbath-school, a third on intemperance, and 
myself on the situation of the poor families in this town. In 
consequence of my report, the church voted to take meas- 
ures to ascertain the wants of this people in regard to the 
Bible. A committee of twenty-two ladies was chosen, to go 
and spy out the land. They divided the town into eleven 
sections, and went two by two. Out of almost three hun- 
dred and thirty families, they visited two hundred and 
sixty-seven, their hearts failing them in regard to the rest. 
Some of these ladies were two full days on their mission, 
taking their food and their horses' food with them. The 
business was all done up in two days. It set the whole 
town in an uproar, but no lawyer could bring an action 
against us. What is equally pleasing, the church voted to 
supply all wants at her own expense. In a few instances 
only were these female missionaries treated otherwise than 
with politeness and gratitude. It did them all good. The 
Unitarians are mad enough at me, considering me as the au- 
thor of all this mischief." 



200 JOHN TODD. 

"April 28th. 
" This afternoon, as I was going to Shirley, I thought it 
best that Mrs. Todd should visit at Mrs. -Dickson's while I 
was gone. We called at Doctor Chaplin's door. Just be- 
fore we got there, our horse became a little scared, but we 
thought but little of it. At the door I stepped on the door- 
step to call William, holding the reins in my hand. The 
horse was rather restive, and, as I always do, I endeavored to 
bring him to obedience. Mrs. Todd was in the chaise talk- 
ing with the ladies, and I was talking with William, but 
just stepping into the chaise. All at once Charles jumped, 
and dragged me off the steps. I held on to the reins till the 
chaise came up to the side of the house, and was crushing 
both of my hands, when I could hold no longer. Again he 
sprung, and ere human aid could reach, he was off, chaise, 
Mrs. Todd, and all — the reins on the ground — and never 
could a deer run faster. I sprung, and the women groaned. 
I nearly kept up with him till after he had crossed the main 
street, when he seemed to outstrip the wind, as he really 
did. The merchants dropped their pens, and two wagons 
were immediately after him as fast as horses could go. I 
gave my dear Mary up to God, and if ever I prayed, it was 
during these moments of agony. I never expected to see 
her again alive. The horse ran, and turned round Judge 
Dana's to the right, still keeping the path. Mrs. Todd, with 
wonderful presence of mind, kept her seat, spoke kindly to 
him, calling him by name, and soon he began to slacken a 
little. At the end of the street was a boy sitting down by 
the roadside. Mrs. Todd beckoned to him, and pointed to 
the horse. The little fellow sprung up, caught the reins, 
and stopped him. By this time the wagons had arrived, 
and there was help enough. Mrs. Todd was safe, unhurt, 
and, what is still more wonderful, the least frightened of any 
of the company. It was a most wonderful escape; and I do 
hope and trust that we have hearts grateful in some degree 
proportionate to the magnitude of the mercy we have re- 
ceived. Mrs. Todd is now thought to be the most extraor- 
dinary woman in the w r orld — not to jump out! not to 
scream ! not to yell ! not to faint ! Indeed, I have long had 
this opinion of my dear Mary, so it is nothing new to me. 
But I have determined to sell my horse as soon as possible ; 



LIFE AT GROTON. 201 

and shall never ask her to ride after him again. We shall 
both cry when he goes, for he is the most beautiful and af- 
fectionate creature in the shape of a horse that I ever saw. 
But he is too gay for us, and, I suppose, we have been too 
proud of him." 

From Mrs. Todd. 

" April 22d. 

" I had no idea that boarders made so much difference in 
a family. Mr. Todd says we have never known what it was 
to live before. You would smile to see how we live. We 
have bought fresh meat only twice (except for the associa- 
tion), and fish once, in two months. Sometimes we have 
pancakes for dinner, and nothing else, sometimes bread-and- 
milk." 

"May 23d. 

"We are interested in all that interests you, and, with 
mother, have most deeply lamented the great distance that 
passes between our monthly dispatches. It certainly has a 
bad effect upon the heart ; and if ' absence is the tomb of 
affection,' it does seem as if we ought to hear more frequent- 
ly. So, for our part, you need not wonder if you hear from 
us oftener. Mary and I once tried to write only once in 
three weeks, but we both grew poor upon it, and altered it 
to a fortnight. The months of our little lives are going 
rapidly enough ; and the time may come, nay, it will come, 
when we shall most fondly go back and look upon every 
monument of love, and wish that they were many more, and 
perhaps regret that we did not cause more to be reared. 

" That Dwight Gymnasium ! I believe it to be mere 
fudge ; but it will go for a short time. You can not start any 
thing new but it will go, especially if it be some new mode 
of learning. The fact is, parents can not bear to think their 
children are not geniuses ; and in the old way it is soon dis- 
covered that not one in a thousand is a genius, but a mere 
plodding mortal like others. Therefore is the call so great 
for innovation ; and if you would set up a skating-school, I 
have no doubt that it would be amply patronized. If God 
ever gives me any children, I hope he will give me that 
modicum of common sense which will send them to learning 
in the old way. Not that I suppose every improvement in 
education complete : Johnson said so, and we know he was 



202 JOHN TODD. 

a fool at times; but the rage for innovation is so great, that 
it seems as if it would sweep down all barriers. A man in 
Newburyport has actually sent me a circular (I wish the 
poor dog had paid the postage) in which he proposes to set 
up a baby infirmary ! that is, if there are any babies six 
months old who can not walk, or talk, or run, it is some dis- 
ease, and the learned fool is to cure them !" 

The runaway Charles w T as succeeded by Prince — "very 
large and strong, six years old, perfectly gentle and docile, 
can not live upon air, and is not particular as to his diet. 1 
hope he will be the creature we want." 

From Mrs. Todd. 

"July 20th. 

"Mrs. Peabody has recently died here. Mr. Todd had 
visited her, by request of her husband and herself, several 
times ; and with some it was doubtful who would be called 
to attend the funeral. Mr. Todd, however, did not expect 
it. On the morning after her death, who should appear, in 
one of the hardest rains we ever have, but L. Lawrence, Esq., 
with Mr. Peabody's request that Mr. Todd would attend the 
funeral, read a hymn, and address the mourners, and Mr. 
Robinson would make the prayers. For his part, he said, 
he could see no objection. It w T as very evident that he 
came prepared to persuade Mr. Todd, if he made objection. 
It seemed to be a difficult case. She was one of our nearest 
neighbors. Mr. Todd had visited her often. She died pro- 
fessing to trust in an almighty Saviour. It might be a fine 
opportunity to do good, to say nothing about pleasing Uni- 
tarians, and some of our own people. What was to be done? 
Mr. Todd said that if it would be just as well, he would give 
Mr. Peabody an answer in a few hours. He went directly 
into his study, and in about two hours wrote a letter to Mr. 
Peabody, refusing to go, and giving his reasons. Thus we 
are called upon to exercise wisdom, prudence, and self-de- 
nial." 

A few weeks after this, Mr. Todd wrote, " My church have 
printed my letter to Mr. Peabody. Copies and reports were 
so numerous that we printed it in self-defense, in a little 
pamphlet." And again, some weeks later, "To-day I have re- 
ceived orders for fifty of my 'Letter,' for Worcester, and ten 



LIFE AT GROTOK 203 

for Shirley. We have only twenty-five left. The Worcester 
people are greatly nettled by it. The writer of the letter 
to me says he got a single copy of it, and lent it among all 
denominations, and it produces a most marvelous stir among 
the Unitarians. What will be the result of it, God only can 
foresee. I heard nearly a month ago that they had an an- 
swer to it in press, but it has not come out. Never has any 
little affair produced so much excitement in this whole re- 
gion." 

This " Letter," which created such commotion, and which 
defended a course so much at variance with the practice of 
orthodox ministers at the present day, disavows all personal 
feeling in the case, and places the refusal on the broadest 
grounds of conscience. 

"I do believe that Unitarianism is not the Gospel of 
Christ. I have read the Bible, I have wept and prayed over 
it, and there is nothing like it there. Christ did not preach 
it; the apostles did not preach it; the redeemed in heaven 
do not celebrate it. I can not do any thing to uphold it. I 
repeat it, I have no personal enmities or dislikes; but as I 
conscientiously believe that Unitarianism will not and can 
not save the soul, I can not give my feeble influence in its 
favor. I do not believe that Jesus Christ will ever acknowl- 
edge it as his religion, or its ministers as his ministers; and 
I can not, therefore, acknowledge it as being the Gospel, or 
them as being the ministers of the Gospel. Do you say this 
is bigotry, and exclusiveness, and illiberality ? Call it what 
you please, but so is my most solemn conviction ; and though 
I know I shall lose popularity with the world by avowing 
such opinions, yet, in view of the great judgment-day, I dare 
not do otherwise ; my conscience and my God would con- 
demn me if. I did. By acceding to your polite invitation, I 
come alongside of a Unitarian minister, and thereby public- 
ly acknowledge him to be a minister of Jesus Christ. Sir, 
in view of the judgment-day, I dare not do it." 

" September 23d. 

" It is a very beautiful morning. Mother is well, and Mrs. 
Todd is quite well, and little Mary Brace Todd is well ! She 
was born last evening ; is a perfect child, as fat as a par- 
tridge, and as beautiful to us as she could be. I trust we all 
unite in giving thanks to God for his great goodness." How 



204 JOHN TODD. 

little was it foreseen in what an evening of darkness and 
sorrow the life whose morning was so fair and joyful would 
end ! 

" October 12th. 
"This community will not soon forget Doctor James P. 
Chaplin, late of Cambridgeport, a man highly and univer- 
sally beloved. He has been cut down suddenly in the bloom 
of health and in the midst of usefulness. His fall will be 
felt far round the spot where his dust sleeps, and his name 
will be embalmed in the sweetest recollections of those who 
knew him best. He was the child of many prayers, the ob- 
ject of fond expectation, and all that a father could desire 
in a son. The affection between the father and the son was 
reciprocal : the father leaned upon him as upon a staff, and 
the son repaid the confidence by acts which nothing but the 
most refined affection could suggest. It might be said, as of 
Jacob, the old man's heart was bound up in the child. On 
Friday, as I was going to ride with Mr. Chaplin for my health, 
he received a letter stating that his brother was worse. He 
had been ill for some time, and had just returned from a jour- 
ney. So Mr. Chaplin took the chaise, and went down to Cam- 
bridgeport as quickly as possible. This evening, just as I 
was going to attend my Bible-class, Mr. Chaplin stood on the 
door-steps. He was chilled through, and looked more than 
sick. I took him by the hand, for I knew at once that his 
only brother must be no more. Never did I see affliction 
more deep. The lamented man died this morning at nine 
o'clock. He came in, and I immediately went to my Bible- 
class, and told them to turn their meeting into a prayer- 
meeting, and added that Doctor James Prescott Chaplin 
was no more. A deep, audible groan through the assembly 
testified how the stroke was felt in his native village. As 
we were going to the house of the aged father, the son said, 
'These are heavy tidings to carry to an old man, a father al- 
most ninety years of age !' It was all that passed between 
us on the way. The old man had been to meeting this aft- 
ernoon, and had a note up in behalf of his son. Mr. Chaplin 
could not go in till I had first communicated the tidings. In 
a few moments I was standing in the family parlor. There 
was the old man, with his wife and daughters. He was sit- 
ting by the stand, reading his little Testament. 'Have you 



LIFE AT GROTOK 205 

heard any thing from Cambridge to-day, sir?' 'No,' he re- 
plied, with uncommon quickness. There was a long pause, 
each dreading to speak. 'Are you prepared, sir, to receive 
any tidings which Providence may send ?' He started per- 
ceptibly ; the hectic flush passed over his countenance, but 
it was gone in a moment. 'At what hour,' said he, with a 
calmness that was more than affecting — it was sublime — 'at 
what hour did the awful event take place ?' I told him. A 
burst of agony broke from every one except the aged father. 
His youngest and only son came in. He had not slept nor 
eaten since he left home. The good old man wiped the tears 
which gently stole down his cheeks, and calmly took William 
by the hand. 'Had the Doctor his senses after you reached 
him ?' ' No, sir, he was then dying.' ' Does he look natural 
since he died?' 'Perfectly so.' 'This is hard, my son; he 
was a great pillar to our family, but I rejoice that Christ is 
a greater pillar. It is hard for flesh and blood, but I am 
thankful that I had such a son to give back to my glorious 
Saviour. In the great scale of Providence it is all as it should 
be. He was in the prime of life and in the height of his use- 
fulness, but Christ knew best when to call him away.' He 
then resumed his seat, and while we were all w T eeping almost 
aloud, the venerable man, with a steady voice, for a full hour 
continued his discourse to us in a similar strain. Never did 
I conceive of a resignation like this. It was not stupid feel- 
ing, nor the blunting of age, for tears rolled down his cheeks 
continually. It was the man, the father, the minister, bap- 
tized by the Holy Ghost. I was ashamed of any resigna- 
tion or religion which I ever called my own." 

" October 26th. 
" Have been mad, and plagued, and bothered, four days 
and as many nights, with one of those paltry agents, and his 
horse ! Wanted money for the Tract Society ; a good ob- 
ject, but why do they send such green, raw -headed, self- 
sufficient, lazy fellows about? He is a student, and wanted 
a gentlemanly way of spending his vacation ; lazy, and could 
hardly feed himself. I gave him my mind on this agency 
business with a freedom which he will not soon forget. At 
first I told him that I would not further his designs one hair, 
unless he would do just as I wanted to have him, and go 
to work. After some grumbling, he surrendered. I then 

14 



206 JOHN TODD. 

marked out my plan, and set him to work. It was this: he 
should go twice to all the towns in this vicinity; first, to 
appoint meetings for every day next week, and, secondly, to 
attend those meetings; the object — to form an 'auxiliary 
Tract Society for Groton and the vicinity ' — to plant a good 
and permanent depository of tracts at Groton. He has vis- 
ited the towns, and their ministers fall in with it. I want 
to ra/tse two hundred dollars for this depository, and this 
would give us a good one. I drew a constitution, and this 
evening met my people at the academy, without telling 
them what I wanted. The said agent opened the business 
in a tame, unintelligible speech of ten minutes. I followed 
it with a speech of half an hour, for I felt it would not do to 
let it fall through. I pressed the thing very gently, how- 
ever, and proposed my constitution. It took, and in ten 
minutes sixty dollars were subscribed, and they set me to 
nominating officers. Was not this doing up business? God 
be praised for his goodness to us and to my people ! I do 
think such a permanent depository will be a great thing for 
this region." 

»An amusing illustration of the medical practice of that 
day is furnished in the following extract from a letter from 
Mrs. Todd, dated when the baby was six weeks old : 

"Little Mary seems pretty well, except that I am obliged 
to give her physic often. Last Wednesday evening I gave 
her more than an even tea-spoonful of salts. She has needed 
nothing since. When she does, I think I shall give her an 
emetic. 

" P.S.— Yesterday Doctor Cutter was here, and advised us 
to give Mary a dose of calomel and jalap." 

"A little later. 

"All the medicine that I srive her is a little magnesia and 
elixir asthmatic every night. 

" We carried her to meeting when she was seven weeks 
old. She behaved very well indeed — never cried a word 
till we got her out into the entry. I was obliged to carry 
her with what clothes she had ; for there was no dimity to 
be bought, and no socks. Those little stockings which you 
gave me, and a couple of pairs of socks which I knit for her, 
and colored with a little cochineal which I brought from 
home, are all she has had. 



LIFE AT GROTOK 207 

"From Thursday to Saturday we had Miss Harriet Beech- 
er with us. She seems to be a very pretty girl. She talks 
some of coming to assist her brother in the academy. I 
wish she would. I should think she had a taste for school- 
keeping." George Beecher had before this time succeeded 
Elizur Wright as preceptor of the academy. 

"October 26th. 

"To-day I was sent for to visit a sick man in Shirley. He 
is a young, dissipated, wicked creature, had religious par- 
ents, was well instructed, once had strong convictions of 
sin, resisted all, and now has nothing but the most dreadful 
horrors ; no softness, no penitence, no hope, nothing but the 
hardness and the horrors of the damned. The neighbors 
came in, and I preached, taking him for my text, and spared 
not. Got home late, and very tired. Hastily drank tea, 
and went off again to my inquiry -meeting. There were 
thirty-six in the number of inquirers, an increase of twelve 
during the past week. A very solemn and very fatiguing 
meeting." The next week there are "forty-nine, and a few 
begin to hope;" the week following, "forty-eight; consider- 
able solemnity; but I have great fears lest we do not have 
a deep revival. The consciences of my people are awak- 
ened, but have not so deep convictions as we could wish. 
Mrs. Todd has got up a female praying-circle, and it prom- 
ises well ; seventeen present at the last meeting. Religion 
seems to be quite popular, and yet I try to deal as faith- 
fully as I can with the heart. But you can not imagine 
how much I have to do." 

" December 23d. 
"I lately preached in Townsend. They are doing well, 
and will have a fine orthodox meeting-house there within a 
year. Day after to-morrow I go to Westford, to assist in 
organizing a church there on orthodox principles. Evan- 
gelical religion is taking hold of this community most won- 
derfully. I have a special quantity of odium to bear, as 
Groton headed the revolution." Eight churches, in as many 
different towns, were among the immediate results of the 
Groton movement. "I am sorry that the Unitarians dislike 
me so extensively. In all this region they consider me a 
fearful foe, and, what is curious, they have an idea that I am 
a most perfect general — a very artful fellow — which certain- 



208 JOHN TODD. 

ly is not true. But God can do his own work with his own 
instruments, and will do so. I suppose a great book-maker 
would consider you and me as doing nothing — throwing 
away our time, and doing nothing but taking care of a lit- 
tle parish. But the book-maker is the lazy one; and it is 
easier to write as much as did Chrysostom, than it is to be 
faithful to a little parish. This is our world, and it is big 
enough. To make a folio is a contemptible business com- 
pared to bringing a soul to Christ. The one can be done by 
any one who can sit and plod: the other can be done by no 
one, not even an angel, without the assistance of God's 
Spirit." 



LIFE AT QROTON. 209 



CHAPTER XV. 

life at geoton — continued. 

Boarding.— A crying Child.— A Horse mired.— A new Parish.— Purchase of a 
Horse. — The lame Boy. — Temperance. — A Horse-trade. — A new Vestry. — 
Inks. — The Barrel of Brimstone. — Trip to Philadelphia.— A mighty Con- 
cern. — Yankee Character. — A Revival. — Piety of Ministers. — Morbid Feel- 
ings. — Depression. — An Idol. — The Deist in the Inquiry-meeting.— A won- 
derful Time. — Union of Churches. — A Call refused. 

Early in January, 1829, the family broke up housekeep- 
ing, stored a part of their goods, and went to board at the 
old minister's, where extensive repairs and alterations had 
been made with a view to the reception of boarders. Quite 
a number of circumstances combined to lead them to take 
this step. The owner of the house which they occupied had 
died ; and the heirs, wishing to sell, had for some time been 
wishing them to surrender their lease. The expenses of es- 
tablishing and keeping up a home had involved them seri- 
ously in debt, which they hoped to be able to pay off by liv- 
ing in a more economical manner ; a hope which was so far 
realized that in three months more than half of the debt was 
paid. The cares of an establishment had of late been heavy, 
and Mr. Todd wished for " more time to study." Their go- 
ing to Doctor Chaplin's would secure to the family a num- 
ber of other boarders also, and so be a kindness to them. 
But that which most influenced them was the need of rest 
for Mrs. Todd, in consequence of the care required by her 
little one. Already the parents had a foretaste of the weary 
years of watching, anxiety, and sorrow which this gifted but 
unfortunate child was to cause them. " Mary never has been 
well. She is a most lovely and playful and perfectly amia- 
ble little girl, when free from pain, but this is but a small 
part of the time. She cries more than any child that we 
ever saw. Sometimes there is not an hour in the night that 
we are not disturbed, and do not have to get up to still her. 
We have asked the advice of four different physicians, but 
nothing that we have ever tried has done any good. We 



210 JOHN TODD. 

sometimes get quite discouraged, and almost worn out with 
her. Mrs. Todd has now really more than she ought to do, 
simply in taking care of Mary, though she is teaching French 
and Euclid to a young lady who boards here." 

" March 29th. 

" I seem to be prophesying over a valley of dry bones. 
Besides my own unfaithfulness, many things have united to 
prevent a revival; such as, (1.) Weather. Our roads have 
been almost impassable, being blocked up with snow. It 
has been next to impossible to go from- one part of the town 
to another for a long time. One Sabbath morning I under- 
took to go to Westford to preach, and rode about four miles 
and a half through deep snow, got my horse into a drift, and 
mired in the snow. It took three men an hour and a half to 
dig him out ! (2.) No good place for meetings. Almost 
every school-house in the town is closed against meetings. 
(3.) Law-suits. Doctor Chaplin's case will be tried proba- 
bly next month ; and the heirs of old Mr. Sawtelle have sued 
for the farms which went to constitute the fund here. The 
ground which they take is, that the will has been violated, 
as these farms were never to be sold. The ground of the de- 
fense is, that the spirit of the will has been preserved. How 
and where the quarrel will end we pretend not to say. (4.) 
Forming of parishes. Our people have just gone through 
the difficulties of forming themselves into a new parish. 
The current is so strong in favor of belonging to the First 
Parish, where there are no taxes to pay, while there are 
heavy ones for those who belong to ours, that I at one time 
feared it would sweep all before it. But I believe all is safe 
for the present. The Unitarians have also just issued their 
warrant to form themselves into a new parish. These move- 
ments have probably had a tendency to divert the minds of 
our people from personal religion. But, after all, I feel dis- 
posed to take most of the blame to myself. Time flies, and 
I resolve and re-resolve to do more and better, and yet I go 
too much onward in the same old track." 

In the month of April an opportunity occurred to buy an 
old house "within ten rods of the meeting-house." The 
place needed many repairs; but it was cheap, and its pur- 
chaser needed exercise. And so, boarding having by this 
time become tiresome, he once more established a home of 



LIFE AT GROT ON. 211 

his own. "We have a good parlor to shut up — a thing 
indispensable to human happiness — and we have a good 
study, if it could be warmed, a good keeping-room, and a 
good kitchen ; and this is all. Our bedrooms, garret, and 
barns are poor things ; and if we were to live on earth al- 
ways, I should feel that we must have a bigger house, and 
more land, and more room within and without." 

Before fairly taking possession, he secured a short vaca- 
tion, and spent it in a visit with his wife at her father's. It 
was the second visit home since their marriage. They drove 
their own horse, Prince, all the way, and were nearly three 
days on the road. "Little Mary was as good a child as 
possible, but the poor little creature was dreadfully wearied 
before we reached this place. Stie sat in my lap, and as- 
sisted me in driving many a long mile, and, on the whole, 
was of great assistance and a great comfort to me." 

On their return from Newington to Groton, Mr. and Mrs. 
Todd took with them one of her little brothers, who spent 
a whole year with them at this time, and subsequently was 
for many years a member of their family. Joab was at this 
time about fifteen years old, and an object of special care 
and tenderness, from the fact that in him a superior mind 
was united to a poor, frail, crippled body. " In his very in- 
fancy, it was discovered that there was an enlargement of 
an internal organ, w T hich must prevent his ever having good 
health, even if he could live. No medical aid could remove 
the difficulty. Still, he was a sprightly child till about two 
years of age, when he was suddenly smitten with a kind of 
paralysis, which added lameness to feebleness. For a long 
time he could not walk or even sit alone. At seven years 
of age, his father used to carry him to church on the Sab- 
bath in his arms. Then, gradually, he began to get about 
on crutches, a feeble, helpless child, kept alive by the great- 
est care, tenderness, and nursing. When I first saw him he 
was about nine years old, a pale little boy, leaning upon 
his crutches, and in his mildness and meekness looking on 
and enjoying the sports of the other children, which he 
could partake Qf in no other way. As the years rolled 
away, it became apparent that he was to be a sufferer, a 
cripple, ancl an invalid for life. But his eye was already 
bright, and he had already endeared himself to his friends, 



212 JOHN TODD. 

so that the softest light began to fall upon his path, and the 
hand of love was careful that his pillow should not be the 
hardest. The watchings, the anxieties, the wearisome days 
and nights which witnessed parental love hanging over him 
I shall not describe. And there was a difficult question 
for his parents to solve. Should they tenderly nurse him, 
watch over him, and keep and prolong mere animal exist- 
ence, or should they put him on a course of education that 
would develop his mental powers, awaken and bring out his 
moral faculties, and thus, as far as they could, fit him for 
God's service, and leave the event to him? Without per- 
haps formally discussing this question in this shape, they 
determined to take the latter course. When he was about 
fifteen, he spent a year in my family in Groton. Among 
the studies which he pursued, I put the large Hebrew gram 
mar of Stuart into his hands, and long before the year was 
out, he had not only mastered it, but delighted his father 
by reading, with admirable correctness and ease, whole 
chapters in the Hebrew Bible. This year was the only pe- 
riod of his being from home, or under any teacher except 
his father, previous to his entering college." And thus was 
introduced to Mr. Todd's family one of those many members 
of it whose dependence upon him nerved his strength, and 
whose helplessness and suffering deepened the tenderness of 
his character. 

"June 28th. 

"I preached this afternoon on the progress of the temper- 
ance reformation in our country. Was heard with atten- 
tion, and, I doubt not, in very many cases with detestation. 
I took the ground on which the subject must stand, and 
struck in the face and eyes of intemperance with all my 
might. I do believe that ardent spirits will exclude more 
from heaven than all other things put together." 

"November 28th. 

"We have a new horse. It was Mr. Chaplin's trade. 
'Dick' is a bay, seven years old, small, light, beautifully 
formed, arched neck, long tail, small feet, quick as a weasel, 
and as gentle as a dove. I never touch him with the whip, 
and can drive him eight miles an hour without striking him 
or worrying him. The great advantages over Prince are, 
he can be kept much cheaper, is much more nimble, nearly 



LIFE AT GROT OK 213 

twice as quick, and is the prettiest creature under the sad- 
dle I ever ' backed,' as the jockeys say. He is nothing as 
large or heavy as Prince, and of course can not draw so 
great a load. But I have been very glad and perfectly sat- 
isfied every moment since the exchange was made. I fear 
I set too much by him. 

" Our vestry is finished and dedicated, and is a beautiful 
place. The pulpit is complete, and is trimmed by our ladies 
very richly. I am every way satisfied. The large room 
seats one hundred and seventy, and all together will hold 
three hundred and fifty. We usually have about two hun- 
dred on Sabbath evening. I feel very thankful, as I hope, 
for such a place. We want nothing now but the special 
and powerful presence of God's Spirit." 

" January 18th, 1830. 

" Joab and I have been trying our skill in making some 
new kinds of ink, and I thought you might wish for a speci- 
men. Heel, you are familiar with. It snows now quite fast, 
and I have got to go to Shirley, seven miles, to attend a 
funeral ; and so I tell you of it in blue. Mr. Chaplin has 
gone 'below,' to attend the trial of his father's case; and 
because I am very doubtful how it will turn out, I mention 
it in yellow. Our congregation is larger on the Sabbath 
than ever before in the winter. We have a singing-school 
with seventy scholars, and a leader from a neighboring town, 
hired for a year at one dollar a Sabbath, after the school is 
closed. This is a sort of purple circumstance, that makes all 
sides look cheerful. We have been setting out rock-maples 
in front of our house, and some pretty evergreens in our door- 
yard. We fear they will all die, but they look green now. 

"Day after to-morrow I must be at Rindge, New Hamp- 
shire, thirty miles off, to talk on intemperance. All the min- 
isters who are afraid to preach on this subject themselves 
are sure to send for me, supposing that I have nothing to 
lose ; or, if I have, that my loss is not theirs. 

"Little Mary grows well, and learns to talk fast, and to 
us is interesting; but oh, what a child! She never wants 
to sleep or to rest. It seems as if we should never have a 
night's rest, or ever be free from headache and fatigue. She 
carries Patty, and tends Patty, and loves Patty as a first- 
born, though she is terribly mutilated and defaced." 



214 JOHN TODD. 

" February 22d. 

"A week ago last Saturday evening, a bitter cold night, I 
was called up in the dead of night to go and see a dying 
woman, but before I got there she was a corpse. It ap- 
peared that in the afternoon (she lived in a room by herself) 
she had drunk freely, and at six o'clock fell into the fire, 
and, before discovered, was awfully burned. All she could 
say was, ' Oh, I'm going into eternity !' Although her 
breath smelled as strong as a brandy cask, she denied hav- 
ing drunk any. In six hours she was a corpse — the most 
shocking -looking object conceivable. A few weeks ago I 
called on her, and warned her most solemnly against this 
sin. All her relatives are either cold Universalists or bitter 
Unitarians. Contrary to my wishes and expectations, I was 
called to attend the funeral. And there was her son, a mer- 
chant in Boston, who not two years before had tried to hire 
a man to bring me up half a barrel of brimstone. Now he 
met me for the first time, and had to hear me speak over the 
hideous remains of his own mother. What must have been 
his feelings! It will do our temperance cause good. I 
took this opportunity to press the subject one evening, and 
did it in such a manner as to cause Mrs. Todd to quiver. It 
was while the woman lay dead, and too offensive to be seen. 
The next step which we propose to take is, to try to get our 
church to make the use of ardent spirits by any member a 
subject of discipline. If we can carry this point, it will greatly 
add to our strength." The point was subsequently carried. 

''March 29th. 

"The Unitarians here are quite humble. They have com- 
promised with Doctor Chaplin's family by giving fifteen 
hundred dollars, and paying the costs, which will be at least 
four hundred dollars more. It is a sore pill for the Unita- 
rians, but they see they must take it. The Universalists — 
for fully half who have sailed under Unitarian colors are in 
fact Universalists — have moved somewhat, and talked of 
forming a society and building a meeting-house. I think 
they will probably not do either. Just for the present time 
it would be well to have them drawn out by themselves, 
and I could wish it; but in the long run I should deprecate 
having such a cage built. The fowl that would flock to it 
out of the Unitarians would be unclean indeed." 



LIFE AT GROTOK 215 

« 

In May Mr. Todd went down to New York (leaving his 
family in Newington on the way), to attend the anniver- 
saries, and make a speech at one of them. " I will not say 
how good my speech was, but believe that it was thought 
to contain too much pep]jer. It was heard. I was delighted 
to see that the different denominations of Christians were 
brought together with the utmost harmony of feeling, and 
seemed to love one another the more for their little differ- 
ences." From New York he made a hurried trip to Phila- 
delphia, his "great object being to become acquainted with 
the Sabbath-school system as it is understood by those who 
manage its great concerns. This I have done. The man- 
agers of the American Sunday-school Union showed me every 
thing, from the clerks' books up to their publishing commit- 
tee's manner of doing business. It is a mighty concern." 

"May 21st. 

"I am once more in Newington, having hurried away 
and around and back again. Whatever I have seen done, 
whether in religion or any thing else, the Yankees are the 
doers thereof. I had no idea that you would find them 
everywhere, and in every kind of employment. If you find 
an intelligent man, he may be a Yorker; but if you find one 
intelligent and liberal too, he is a Yankee. I have never 
been so much delighted with Yankee character and Yankee 
energy as since I left home, and never felt so proud as at 
this time that I am a descendant from the Pilgrims." 

In June the " General Association " held its annual meet- 
ing in Groton ; and immediately after it, and perhaps in con- 
sequence of it, followed an important revival. 

"July 5th. 

"Last evening, after being exhausted by the labors of the 
Sabbath, I attended an inquiry-meeting, the church holding 
a prayer-meeting in the opposite room. Eighteen in the in- 
quiry-room. I had requested that none be urged to attend, 
and that none come who did not feel interested for their sal- 
vation. A few were joyful ; some awfully bowed down ; oth- 
ers solemn, though not under deep conviction. The prayer- 
meeting was full and solemn. Mr. Chaplin, who conducted 
it, seemed overwhelmed; I never saw him appear so much 
affected. If there is any one thing that looks more encoura- 
ging than another, it is that the church are deeply solemn." 



216 JOHN TODD. 

" July 12th. 

"Twenty-seven in the inquiry-room. I never saw meet- 
ings, countenances, every thing, so solemn as they are in this 
town now. There seems to be no excitement, no joy, not 
even in the church, but a certain awful sense of the presence 
of God. I am glad to find that the people seem to put un- 
reserved confidence in me, perhaps too much. They almost 
think they can be saved by their minister. I have conversed 
with over sixty people within four days on the subject of 
personal religion. It is the only subject on which I con- 
verse at all." 

"July 13th. 

" I do not know as I ever had the great subject of relig- 
ion so fully and constantly before me as for the week past, 
and am sure I never had such clear views of the way of 
salvation through Christ. I have been reading to-day the 
life of Doctor West, who entered the ministry without piety, 
but was afterward converted; and I think I would rejoice 
if I could now be led through convictions equally deep and 
awful. Oh, how I do pity those in the ministry! They 
have none to sympathize with them, can not open an aching 
heart to any one, for they are above all, and all feel that they 
are above sympathy, or fears, or dangers. I more and more 
fear for the piety of ministers, and never felt it so deeply as 
within a few weeks. In looking at my own case, I find that 
I have many of the fears of the Christian, many of his temp- 
tations, little or none of his contrition, and none of his joys. 
Never did I enjoy less of the consolations of the presence of 
God than at this moment, when sinners are inquiring, some 
are rejoicing, and God's people are filled with joy. If I can 
weep in secret, I fear it is nothing but nervous depression, 
not sorrow for sin ; if I rejoice in public at what God is do- 
ing, I fear it is nothing but professional sympathy. I have 
no time for study, and all I read is a little in the Bible and 
in Payson's Memoirs : the former would be degraded by my 
commendations ; the latter gives me more satisfaction than 
any uninspired book I ever read. To me itis valuable beyond 
all price; the reason is,I have just his weaknesses without any 
thing of his piety or any thing of his talents; so that I can 
sympathize with him when he is under the cloud, but my eyes 
can not bear such sunshine as sometimes falls upon him." 



LIFE AT GROTON. 217 

Keen observers of human character will detect here a 
strain of morbid feeling suspiciously like one of the results 
of ill-health. In fact, he was very far from well. His long 
and uninterrupted studies and exciting labors had seriously 
and permanently disturbed his nervous system. It was 
sometimes thought that the pulmonary disease which had 
so nearly taken his life in college had assumed another form. 
On the other hand, it was thought by himself and others that 
his enemy was the dyspepsia, and accordingly he resorted, 
for years, to severe courses of medicine and diet, which un- 
questionably aggravated rather than relieved his distress. 
Those who were not intimately acquainted with him, who 
saw his strong frame and hardy appearance and the amount 
of work which he performed, will probably be surprised to 
learn that he was never well, that he was a great sufferer, 
mentally and physically, and that he was almost always on 
some course of diet, medicine, or exercise, in the vain hope 
of recovering health ; and those who read his remarkably 
healthy and cheery writings, and those who witnessed the 
humor and fun which overflowed in his social life, will prob- 
ably be still more surprised to learn that, all his life, he was 
subject to frequent and long-continued turns of depression 
of spirits and mental suffering of the deepest and darkest 
character, and that much of his writing was done under 
these shadows. "My spirits have been very unusually de- 
pressed, and I have felt all the horrors of those whose trou- 
bles are something more than imaginary. Among the suffer- 
ers in this sad world, I believe that poor Cowper may take a 
foremost place. I know you will find fault with me for my 
hours of depression ; but if you could experience one such 
hour, you would only pity and weep. No language can de- 
scribe it." He seldom allowed these turns of depression or 
their effects to be seen in his writings or public life; but his 
family were familiar with them, and their letters from him 
were almost uniformly sad. Probably mental suffering is 
almost inevitable for those whose mental organization is so 
delicate, whose feelings are so finely-strung, and in whom the 
imaginative and poetic is so exquisitely and excessively de- 
veloped. 

The revival went on. "The Unitarians know something 
of the state of religion among my people, and it makes them 



218 JOHN TODD. 

exceedingly angry. My people seem most devotedly at- 
tached to me, and this makes the Unitarians very much 
vexed. They say there was never any idol on earth so 
much worshiped as Mr. Todd. I think they are very much 
mistaken. My people have confidence in me and respect 
me, but I have kept them too distant to expect they can 
love me as a friend. I have no doubt this is one secret of 
my influence. 

"A week ago last evening I found a young man, a Uni- 
versalist, or deist, in my inquiry-meeting. He came out of 
curiosity, with a view to make sport of it. I asked him if 
he was a Christian? 'No.' Ever thought of it as a per- 
sonal concern? 'No.' Live without Christ, and hope, and 
God ? ' Yes.' During the whole evening there was a sar- 
donic smile upon his countenance. At the close of the meet- 
ing I said, aloud, 'All seem to be under the direct influence 
of the Spirit of God, except one.'' There was a pause. I 
added, ' There is one young man who came out of curiosity, 
or to make sport, who confesses that he has nothing to do 
with God.' I then bore down upon him openly, fully, and 
with all my power. The malignity of hell seemed to sit 
upon his countenance. It was a harsh medicine to use, but 
I felt that no other would do any good ; and I thought it 
best to make an example of such characters, lest others 
should come. Last evening he was there again ! His coun- 
tenance changed, sober, grave, solemn ; and the Spirit of 
God seems to have touched his heart in some measure. I 
don't know as he will be converted, but he is in God's hands. 
The change already produced is very wonderful." 

In writing to his father-in-law, to beg him to come and 
help him for a few weeks, he says (Augifst 28th), " We want 
efficient help amazingly, and never did labor produce so 
much effect as now. One hundred and four different persons 
have attended the inquiry - meetings ; of these about forty 
have a hope that they 'have passed from death unto life.' 
It is all most evidently the work of God, and yet it moves 
forward only in exact proportion to severe, faithful labor. It 
does seem to me as if there might be a powerful work here, 
if we had help. Never was the contest between sin and 
holiness so great in this town as at the present time. God 
is shaking terribly the land." His application was success- 



LIFE AT GROT OK 219 

ful, and for about three weeks he enjoyed the assistance of 
Mr. Brace. 

"October 3d. 

"At the meeting of the church last Monday evening the 
subject of the union of the two churches was brought up, 
and it at once kindled a fire. There were two reasons for. 
it — pride, and love of ruin. Many of the old church can not 
bear to have it become extinct, or, rather, they can not think 
of comino- down to a new church. 'It is like a general's 
being reduced to the ranks,' say they. But many more hate 
our rules about rum, and so the churches will not at present 
be united. A good deal of warmth and temper was shown, 
and some most* severe remarks made. I thought, when I 
came home, that the revival was at an end ; for it could not 
be but such a spirit would grieve the Spirit of God." 

"October 25th. 

"We have had bad times. During the last week several 
applied to the old church for dismission, and a vote was 
passed that any might come (to the new church) who wish* 
ed; but this vote only increased the difficulty, till it seemed 
as if there would be bursting somewhere. I only lamented 
the ruin of the prospect for a revival of religion, as I felt 
perfectly convinced that the revival was at an end for the 
present. At length the tide ran so high that it seemed 
ready to sweep away every thing. But the wind is shift- 
ing, and I trust the storm is over. I called the Union Church 
together, and they passed a vote giving the old church a 
kind invitation to unite with them. To-day I met the old 
church at Doctor Chaplin's, and communicated the invita- 
tion. They unanimously accepted it, and are to sign our 
articles of faith, covenant, and rules, without altering them 
a hair in any way. We are to have a religious meeting at 
Doctor Chaplin's some time next week, when the union is to 
be consummated by their signing our book. They were per- 
fectly harmonious, except on the subject of total abstinence. 
How that will turn I do not know ; but I am expecting a 
few will stand out and not come in. They will have to 
stand so ; and where will they belong ? Nowhere. We 
shall cut them off from our communion, if they need it. I 
do trust that in the course of next week this disagreeable 
business will be over." Thus was accomplished at last the 



220 JOHN TODD. 

event in anticipation of which the name Union Church had 
been selected. 

The pastor was right, however, in his expectation that the 
controversy attending the event would kill the revival. For 
some time the congregation on the Sabbath continued to be 
"unusually large and solemn;" but "the inquiry -meeting 
had lamentation and woe written upon its walls." During 
the revival one hundred and fifty-eight persons attended the 
inquiry-meeting, of whom fifty-two joined the church before 
the close of the year. "I do not know how many more will 
be admitted. Many would like to come in, for it is thought 
to be respectable; but there is more danger of having the 
church too large than of its being too small. The Unitari- 
ans have made very great exertions to get their congrega- 
tion into the church, and, after all their efforts and open 
doors, their church now consists of about sixty, old and 
young, male and female. I do not know how they account 
for it that their system does not work faster. Never did 
Satan invent any thing so poorly calculated to enlist the 
feelings of mankind as this same system of Unitarianism." 

" November 30th. 

"At Lowell they are organizing a new Congregational 
church, and building a new stone meeting-house. A secret 
committee did me the honor to call on me to inquire if they 
could have any hope of getting me to become their pastor, 
if they should give me a call, with the offer of one thousand 
dollars salary. You will readily suppose I did not listen a 
moment to the proposal. Not that I suppose we shall al- 
ways live in Groton, should we live long; but the indica- 
tions of Providence must be plainer than this to induce me 
to take the risk. It would be a very great risk for me, and 
equally great for this people at present. I sometimes — nay, 
often — think our stay here will be short; but that will be as 
God shall direct." 



LIFE AT GROTON. 221 



CHAPTER XVI. 

life at groton — continued. 

The new Cloak. — A kindred Spirit. — Another Arrival. — Antimasonry. — 
Death of Doctor Chaplin.— Death of Mr. Evarts. — A second Hamlet.— A 
four-days' Meeting. — The House divided. — Bochiin. — The last Day of the 
Feast. — Powerful Medicine. — The Bowling-alley. — Early Meetings. — 
Alone.— The black Kitten.— The lost Puppy.— Homesick.— Hard Work. 
—Milk Diet.— Sick.— Meeting at Sodom.— A Journey. — The Poles. — The 
Slaves. — One Foot in the Stirrup. — Basted together. — Poor Tea. — A Prov- 
idential Dispensation.— Stormy Times.— Death of a Sister.— Called to Sa- 
lem.— A handsome Grave.— Council.— Dismission refused. — Broken up.— 
Another Call.— Farewell to Groton. 

"January 7th, 1831. 
"Mes. Todd, instead of putting me up to get a tidy goat's 
hair wrapper, with wadding, etc., has turned my old college 
plaid cloak, taken out one lining, cut up my old fur cap for 
a collar, and then persuaded me that it is warmer for hav- 
ing lost one lining, and, as to looks, is really superior to any 
thing that can be purchased. Should you doubt it, I can 
probably send you a certificate. I get it on, rub my cheeks 
against the fur, imagine that it is new, and prove its warmth 
by shivering in every limb. The Biblical Repository has 
just come to hand. It is most beautifully printed, and has 
far more show of learning than any thing that I have seen 
this side of the water — except Catharine Beecher." 

" February 22d. 

" Mr. , of Fitchburg, will probably be dismissed shortly. 

His crime is, not having talents great enough for that peo- 
ple ! May he be forgiven. Last week I was made sick by 
the ordination at Townsend. The young man's name is Kit- 
tle, and he promises well. He certainly is a man of talents." 
With Mr. Kittle Mr. Todd became quite intimate. For a 
long time he had been almost deprived of ministerial so- 
ciety, the nearest pastors with whom he could fraternize liv- 
ing fourteen or fifteen miles away, and he took great pleas- 
ure in having a man of kindred tastes and spirit so near 
him. Of his friend's abilities and indolence he entertained 
a high opinion. "Kittle would often ride over to see me, 

15 



222 JOHN TODD. 

and we would sit down in my study, and take a text, and 
plan out a sermon together, and I would dig over it the 
whole week; while he would stick the paper in his hat, 
and never look at it again till he got into the pulpit on Sab- 
bath morning." To please an uncle, Mr. Kittle subsequently 
changed his name to Rogers. He afterward became the first 
minister of the Central Church in Winter Street, Boston. 

"April 5th. 

"Little Martha was born on Friday — fat as a partridge, 
and perfectly quiet. I do not deny that my disappointment 
was great in not having a son ; but when we have so per- 
fect and beautiful a child given us, I feel that we have no 
right to complain. I trust we feel something of the good- 
ness of God in this event, which so far has been most mer- 
ciful. 

"There are many things about my people which are very 
discouraging. The whole town is in a convulsion, and where 
it will end I see not. The subject of antimasonry is excit- 
ing great attention. A lecture is to be delivered on the 
subject this evening, and the prospect is that the community 
will be very greatly excited. I feel more and more that 
this is a changing and .passing world, but fear I am not try- 
ing to prepare for a better." 

"April 27th. 

"Last Sabbath afternoon I preached the funeral sermon 
of Doctor Chaplin to a very full house. He was a father to 
me, and I loved and honored him as a son. I never heard 
him, during all his trials, make use of any angry expressions, 
or make a severe remark against any man, or evince the 
least bitterness of feeling. It seemed hardly possible for im- 
perfect human nature to pass through what he did, and yet 
so uniformly and so clearly reflect the image of Christ. I 
do not believe he knew what it was to feel enmity against 
any human being, or that, for years before his death, he had 
a personal enemy. His last sickness was severe and trying, 
but he bore it in meekness. As death approached, there 
w T ere no raptures, no high excitements, nor were there any 
fears. He went down the valley of death as the full sun of 
autumn sets when not a cloud dims its brightness. He had 
been so often on the mount, and had so often seen eternal 
things, that when the king of terrors came, he found the 



LIFE AT GROTOK 223 

pilgrim ready. It was not so much like dying, as like the 
sweet confidence of the infant falling asleep in the arms of 
its mother. Many men have been more noticed in life, and, 
perhaps, longer remembered after death ; but few, it is be- 
lieved, have found a nearer passage to the bosom of the Re- 
deemer, or will wear a brighter crown in the day of his ap- 
pearing." 

"May 31st. 

"I went to Boston to attend the election. It rained 
most of the time in torrents, and I got jaded out. The 
pulse of religion in Boston is very high. All that I did 
was to make an extempore address before the Massachu- 
setts Missionary Society, and to mourn, with all the rest, 
over the loss of Mr. Evarts. I never before knew any such 
effect produced by the fall of a man in Israel as there was 
in Boston by the tidings of his death, and I verily believe 
his thus falling in the greatness of his strength will give a 
greater impulse to the cause of Christ than his living twen- 
ty years would have done. Mysterious providence ! He 
died in the very chamber (in Charleston, South Carolina) in 
which, in 1820, 1 was confined for months by sickness. He 
fell, too, just after having made his greatest efforts; as if 
the sun should sink suddenly away, after having just thrown 
up his most golden beams. I think I have seldom contem- 
plated a death by which heaven seemed to be brought so 
near. Oh, how few have ever come so near rising above the 
effects of the fall, and so near serving God with the ardor 
of a seraph and the purity of an angel ! His family are 
cheerful and happy. It seems like the same cheerful home, 
and, while there, I seemed to forget the event ; but the mo- 
ment I cast my eye upon the very natural portrait on the 
wall, I could not keep the tears from my eyes. It did not 
seem as if a body which had been occupied by such a spirit 
ought to return to the dust. But I know it must. He was 
the son of my father's favorite sister. I need not eulogize; 
the tears of thousands put the eloquence of words to shame. 

"I have never had so large a congregation as this season, 
and never has my society been so prosperous externally ; but 
within, all is dark and discouraging. I can look over the 
garden, see what wants to be done, form great and good 
plans, but, alas! have not life enough and soul enough to ex- 



224 JOHX TODD. 

ecute them. I seem to be like young Hamlet, when a spirit 
from the other world was continually haunting him and 
urging him to great deeds, and he resolved that he would 
do them ; the only weak spot in him was, that he had not 
strength enough, manhood enough, to carry out his resolu- 
tions. I do not know what is to become of us, if God does 
not shortly visit minister and people. Next week we are 
to have a four days' meeting begin; and I pray God for 
a preparation. I have some — many hopes, and many fears. 
There are five such meetings in this region, commencing on 
the same day." 

The four clays' meeting began on Tuesday, June 7th. By 
way of preparation, the pastor appointed a prayer-meeting 
on Monday morning at live o'clock, expecting six or eight 
persons, "but was delightfully surprised to find fully fifty." 
There was also a meeting of the church in the afternoon, 
" full and encouraging." The order of exercises was the 
same for each of the four days. At five o'clock in the morn- 
ing there were as many prayer-meetings as there had been 
meetings on the previous evening. The first morning there 
was one meeting; the second, one; the third, eight; the 
fourth, ten, in as many different school -houses. At nine 
o'clock the ministers met to arrange plans for the day, and 
then and at a later hour had a season of prayer by them- 
selves. These ministers gathered from the region about, on 
the first clay, to the number of six; the third day, there were 
twelve ; the last day, there were eighteen. In the forenoon 
there was preaching, followed by addresses. In the after- 
noon there were addresses and prayers. In the evening, 
preaching in as many different places as there were preachers. 

"June 8th. 

" One day is gone. The life-boat has been with us one 
day. Last evening I attended a meeting at the academy ; 
at least one hundred and fifty present, the other six meet- 
ings notwithstanding ; a very solemn, good meeting ; many 
present of those who seldom hear the truth. Those who 
were sitting at the doors of dram-shops and stores looked 
cross enough, as we went by to go to meeting." 

"June 9th. 

"At the close of the services to-day, the audience was di- 
vided, the Christians taking the wall-pews, and the uncon- 



LIFE AT GROTON. 225 

verted the body of the house. It was solemn indeed. The 
Christians, each way from the pulpit, tilled the wall-pews, 
and nearly the aisles, and there were as many as three hun- 
dred and fifty unconverted in the centre. After this di- 
vision, they were addressed by Mr. Chickering and myself. 
It seemed like the grave for solemnity, and like Bochim for 
tears; altogether the most solemn time I ever witnessed. 
The unconverted were by themselves, and the professors of 
religion were all around them, like a thick wall, and were 
weeping for and over them. The ministers of Christ were 
praying and weeping too. It was a time in which the souls 
of men were melted." 

"JunelOth. 
"This is the last, great day of the feast, and so anxious a 
time I never knew before. The ministers came together at 
noon, and I never saw men so weighed down. Worn out 
with labor and sleepless nights, they seemed to sink under 
the thoughts of the afternoon. All came around the table, 
but ate scarcely a mouthful. All seemed to breathe short 
and quick. All felt as if the most powerful medicine had 
been given, and we were soon to know the result. Much 
weeping and praying. The house, this afternoon, was full. 
Between thirty and forty notes were read of those who de- 
sired prayers, and truly they were the sorrows of many 
hearts. Oh, if our Redeemer be not divine, how useless to 
spread all these sorrows before his throne ! During the 
farewell address, God seemed indeed to be present. Near 
the close of it, I called upon the impenitent who had deter- 
mined to make religion their chief concern, to rise. Over 
one hundred and fifty arose and stood. I then called upon 
those who were professors of religion to rise, if they would 
pray for them; almost all in the house rose. I then inquired 
what would become of those who continued to sit. Where 
will they go? Heaven and earth are witness that they de- 
liberately chose to keep their seats and deny Christ. While 
they were thus standing, the Christians and the anxious, I 
called for the judgment hymn, 

' Oh there will be mouriiing 

Before the judgment-seat,' etc. 

It was sung slowly and solemnly, and its effects were aw- 



226 JOHX TODD. 

fully great. Several who held to their seats rose up; they 
could sit no longer. Among those who rose were some 
whom we never expected to see softened in the least. In 
all our efforts we have tried to lead the people to be solemn, 
rather than to cause high excitement. 

"The meeting has done little to the Unitarians, except 
enrage them. They have attended our services but very 
little. They talk, and swear, and hate. On the second day, 
the Unitarian minister was found at a bowling-alley, setting 
up pins while the party were rolling. On the third day, he 

and some such men as , and some most profane ones, 

got up a riding party, and went over to Pepperell. Some 
forbade their wives and children to attend any meetings. 
A husband forbade his wife to attend the meetings in the 
school-house near which they lived. She would get to her 
chamber-window, and open it, and listen, and weep, because 
she could hear only the sound of the voice without distin- 
guishing the words. But it is wonderful that God has so 
changed public sentiment that we could have ten meetings 
in ten school-houses at once, and could have had the whole 
fourteen houses, if we had had the men to occupy them." 

"June 29th. 

"At our first inquiry-meeting after the above there were 
nearly thirty present. The number has since increased to 
forty, and some have obtained hope. We have prayer- 
meetings every morning at half -past four o'clock: a good 
state of feeling in the church." 

"Later. 

"I have attended many of these meetings, have seen them 
under all circumstances, and, on the whole, am at a dead 
loss to say whether I think the good or the evil of them 
preponderates. I might fill sheets on this point, for it is one 
that has cost me much anxiety. That good, much good, 
has resulted from them, I do not doubt : that enormous evils 
are almost inseparably connected with them, I believe quite 
as firmly." 

In July, Mrs. Todd, with the two children, went home to 
her father's to make a visit and obtain needed rest, leaving 
Mr. Todd to occupy the house alone, except for the hired 
boy, and to take his meals with the Chaplins. His four 
years of domestic happiness, after the long solitude of his 



LIFE AT GROT OX. 227 

early life, had so endeared his family to him, that he keenly 
felt his separation from them, and his loneliness. 

" I am now in my study, looking out of my window to- 
ward you, and seeing the new moon with a little star beside 
it, and am wondering where you are, if you are sick, if you 
are tired, if the children are sick, if you feel good courage. 
Father writes as though he expected you would come, and 
as if I should make nothing of having you gone — several 
mouths, I should think, by his account. Have you thought 
of lonely me ? I am truly so. But your plauts are here, 
and I have watered them; and the kitten is gleesome ; the 
evening air is sweet ; the heavens are beautiful to the eye ; 
and all far, far above them, is beautiful to the eye of faith. 
To Him who dwells far above these bright stars, I commend 
you. 

" I have had a truly lonely evening. Just at night it be- 
gan to rain, and there has been a wet easterly storm all the 
evening. In whatever part of the house I am, I hear the 
same dripping and pattering. You know how gloomy our 
well-room is at such a time, even when the family are all 
here. How different is your situation from mine! I sup- 
pose to-night you are surrounded by all the great family, 
and all is light and cheerful. But when I move around, 
how many things tell me I am alone? The rooms are dark- 
ened. I go into the bedroom, and there is Mary's ' little 
summer-bed;' I go into the other bedroom, and there lies 
your bonnet on the bed, and little Martha's cradle by the 
side of it. I go out-of-doors, and there is Mary's wagon, 
with no little prattler by it. Every step and turn brings 
you all fresh to my memory. May every mercy be upon 
you, and about you." 

"Little Mary, — Your little black kitten goes with me 
out to the barn, into the garden, into the workshop, and fol- 
lows me all around, because she is so lonely. She wants to 
see you. Yesterday she went out to the barn with me, and, 
as I was at work, I heard something squeal. So I turned 
around, and your little kitten had caught a rat ! and the rat 
was squealing, and trying to get away, and trying to bite 
her; but she held him fast, and would not let him go. And 
then she carried him out-of-doors and let him run, and then 



228 JOHN TODD. 

would jump and catch him. She eats milk, and grows finely. 
The j)ig grows too, only he thinks it too hot. Father is all 
alone, and wants his little girl to help hi in. So you must 
be a good little girl, and take good care of mother and little 
Martha, till you are ready to come home. Tell all of them 
that father sends his love. Good-bye." 

"My dear little Mary, — Father must tell you about the 
little puppy. Last Wednesday night Deacon Adams heard 
something trotting in the meeting-house. So, after dark, 
Allen and Mr. Farley took the key, and went and opened 
the meeting-house door and whistled, and down came a lit- 
tle puppy out of the gallery. He was almost starved, and 
jumped and capered about, and was so glad to get out! 
The poor fellow had had nothing to eat since Sabbath, and 
this was three days and three nights. Don't you think he 
was very hungry? So they took him into the store, and 
gave him some crackers to eat. Poor fellow ! he had no- 
body to take good care of him, as my little girl has. So 
you must be good, and don't forget your father at Groton. 
Good-bye. Kiss little Martha for me." 

" You do not mention the subject of ever seeing Groton 
again ; but father does, and in such a way that I should con- 
clude that he expected you to stay at least six months. I 
certainly shall be ready to make any self-denial, if it may 
benefit your health ; but in making your estimates upon the 
whole subject, I presume you will not forget that I am here 
in a loneliness almost beyond description. Nobody has 
called, and I have felt so down that I have called on nobody. 
The silence in the house is dreadful. The clock ticks so 
loud, that I sometimes think of stopping it." 

Undoubtedly these feelings were greatly aggravated by 
the state of his health. The intense excitement in which he 
had now lived for years had worn upon his nervous system 
terribly. But, mistaking the nature of the difficulty, he put 
himself upon a rigorous and insufficient diet, and, neglecting 
every thing else, devoted himself to severe manual labor, 
with an energy which soon exhausted what little nervous 
strength he had left. 

"I have been at work all day. This morning I pitched 



LIFE AT GROTOK 229 

off my load of hay, and then worked in the shop; this after- 
noon I helped Mr. Chaplin ; I pitched three loads on the 
cart, and one off. Both of my hands are blistered, and my 
wrists lame. 

"After dinner I went down into the corn-field, and hoed 
till it was done. It took us most of the afternoon, and was 
very hard. I have but one feeling, and that is, excessive 
fatigue and low spirits. All my bones ache; but I feel de- 
termined to keep on with hard work, from sun to sun, till 
the experiment has been fairly made. 

" I have eaten milk every night and morning since you 
left. At present it neither suits me, nor do I love it. But 
I must do something. I have worked hard every day, either 
on land or in the shop. I do not feel that I am any bet- 
ter as yet. Never did any man need to have more horri- 
ble nights than I do. I either do not sleep, or, if I do, my 
dreams are painful and terrific beyond all description. 

" I have not much opinion of dieting, though I have tried 
it most faithfully, and it seems as if I should die under it. As 
yet I have not relaxed an iota. I have made up my mind not 
to alter for a month from the time I commenced." 

At last he was taken down with violent chills and pains, 
and every symptom of a fever. In this condition a friend 
"happened to espy" him, and medical attendance and care- 
ful nursing were at once obtained for him. A severe course 
of medicine broke up the fever, but his physician urged him 
to take a few weeks of rest immediately ; his nervous sys- 
tem was in a bad condition. 

"August 7th. 
"This afternoon I crawled out and tried to preach, extem- 
pore. When about two-thirds through, my lungs seemed 
to fail, so that I could hardly speak aloud. The last third 
of the sermon was like drawing a sleigh on bare ground. 
However, the people, by their looks, forgave all. After meet- 
ing I had to go up to Sodom to preach. It seemed wrong, 
but there was no help for it. It was a terrible time : meet- 
ing full: some drunk, some swearing, some talking, some 
pushing, some trying to keep order, and some weeping. 
There evidently is some seriousness there, else would not the 
devil come down with such wrath. I don't suppose a third 
of what I said was heard, for the noise." 



230 JOHN TODD. 

He was now convinced that a short rest was indispensa- 
ble. "I feel bad to be cut off from my work when I have 
over sixty inquirers, but can not do any good as I am." Aft- 
er considering many plans, and rejecting them as too expen- 
sive, he determined to drive to Connecticut with a pair of 
horses, and bring back his family. The journey was a pleas- 
ant one, and he returned, after two or three weeks, not re- 
stored, and with "very little elasticity," but much better. 

" November 1st. 

"The lawsuit has been decided in favor of this town; so 
that Unitarianism will quietly settle down on these funds, 
till God shall overturn it in his own wise way. 

" I am in distress for the Poles. Poor fellows ! their fate 
seems to be sealed ; and, after having waded long in blood, 
they are to be crushed. God speed the day when the foot 
of tyranny will not tread on the necks of the brave ! I am 
in distress, too, for our two millions of slaves, who are made 
cattle of, and yet who, if they lift the head at all, are butch- 
ered in a moment. Poor missionaries, too, in Georgia State- 
prison ! When will the river of salvation quench the fires 
of persecution ? And at what point will our country stop 
in its career of wickedness? I have a heart full of fears and 
griefs caused by looking at the world. But, poor worm ! 
there is One above who holds the hearts of all, and who is 
calmly carrying on his own plans, while I, poor short-sighted 
creature, am worrying and wondering where these things 
will end. I feel like Mary, see that they have taken him 
away, and wonder where they have laid him, while at the 
very moment he is risen, and holding the keys of death and 
hell in his hand." 

About this time the peace of the community was disturb- 
ed by the antimasonic excitement, which mixed itself with 
politics. 

" December 4th. 

" The church is full of jealousies and coldness, and it seems 
as if Satan had come down, and was setting all by the ears. 
Every man's hand is against his brother's, and we are in a 
most deplorable condition. As yet the storm has not reach- 
ed us, but I am expecting every day that it will. I stand 
with one foot in the stirrup, ready to mount at a moment's 
notice. As yet I do not know that we have been blamed 



LIFE AT GROTOX. 231 

by either party much, though the antimasons probably feel 
that we are too cool. You can readily see that if such a 
whirlwind should take a minister, it would lift him high and 
dry. We borrow no trouble on this score. The women are 
partisans, and talk (for a rarity) as fast and as rashly as 
could be desired. I need not say there is but little religion 
among us. The Holy Spirit does not live in storms." 

The explanation which Doctor Todd used to give of the 
restlessness and tendency to extremes which were developed 
in his Groton church was, that the excitement of the strug- 
gle with Unitarianism, without which the separation from 
the old church could never have been accomplished, caused 
a high-pressure condition of mind in the people which could 
not at once subside. After a few years all wildness and dis- 
order disappeared, and the church became as steady and so- 
ber and substantial as any in the State. 

" December 27th. 

"Last week we dedicated a new meeting-house in D , 

and ordained a new minister. What he is, there is no say- 
ing. He was a Princeton theological student, not very clear 
in his views and ideas. Some men are sewed, and others are 
only basted together. 

" I have the honor to be addressed by name frequently in 
long letters in the Trumpet (Universalist) at Boston. Of 
course I take no notice of such attacks. They are bitter 
enough here. At one of the meetings in a distant neighbor- 
hood they put potato-tops before my horse, with a bottle of 
whisky emptied upon them. And one man has a pig which 
he has named after me. He calls, ' Todd, Todd,' and the pig 
knows his name. It is altogether the likeliest member of his 
family. 

" The tea which I procured in Hartford proves poor, that 
is, you can't make good tea of it without putting some of it 
into the pot ; but put in a reasonable quantity, and it is de- 
licious." 

" January 29th, 1832. 
"To-day a committee of our church reported in favor of 
electing deacons, an office which we have never had in our 
church. Next Saturday is to be spent in prayer and fast- 
ing, and the election is to take place at three o'clock. I can 
not now say who is likely to be elected. It is a matter of 



232 JOHX TODD. 

some considerable consequence, and one which I have been 
dreading for several years. Four is the number fixed upon. 
Why four?' Because sometimes a drink which is injurious, 
or iu danger of being so, may be made perfectly harmless by 
diluting." Many years afterward, when asked by some one 
how he went to work in electing deacons, he replied, "Always 
with the greatest reluctance." At another time he wrote: 
"I don't believe I should like the rotation of deacons; for, 
if it is equally Scriptural, it seems to me it would bring the 
evil and anxiety upon us certainly and periodically, whereas 
now we go through it as a providential dispensation" 

" February 12th. 

" Our church is in a dreadful state, and there seems to be 
a fair prospect that it will be rent through and through. In 
the first place, there is the masonic question; and then there 

is the affair; and then a great deal of hard feeling of 

one against another, which has been growing a great while; 
and that 'little member' is as busy as a bee, as sharp as a 
dirk, and as poisonous as an asp. I have felt for the last 
two months that if I should not stay here a month longer, it 
would not be a matter of surprise. I don't know that our 
people dislike us for any thing, excepting that, when there 
are two parties, you are blamed by both for not hoisting col- 
ors, and the most by the most violent. I used to repeat the 
words, 'Oh, that I had the wings of a dove,' etc., till I met 
with an old writer who said, 'David would have shown a 
better spirit had he prayed for the patience and strength 
of an ox to bear his troubles, instead of the wings of a dove 
to fly away from them.' " 

"March 23d. 

"To-day I received a letter containing the unexpected 
news that my sister Mary is gone. She lived at Georgia, 
Vermont, and was unquestionably the flower of my family. 
She lived and died as a Christian; and, though I never saw 
her but once in my life, few brothers ever loved a sister more 
tenderly. I had set my heart greatly upon seeing her the 
coming season." 

"March 24th. 

" I have spent all the morning in writing a sermon suited 
to my feelings on the death of my sister. I have seldom, if 
ever, performed a task so trying as the writing of this ser- 



LIFE AT GROTOK 233 

mon. This death has seemed to bring eternity nearer to rue 
than any event for many years." 

"May 14th. 

"You will remember that neither of us has any parents 
but you, and no place to rest the heart in on earth but in 
your family. If I had parents and friends with whom to 
centre a part of the flowings of the heart, it would be differ- 
ent. But I have not; I have unreservedly given you all 
that affection and love which would in part, necessarily, 
have gone to my own parents, if God had seen fit to spare 
them to me. I have no doubt that you have been aware of 
this, in part ; but none of you has ever known what desola- 
tion of the heart means, as I have known ; and it would be 
a great source of sorrow to me if I did not suppose you were 
willing to receive from me the affection of an own child." 

In the month of June, a unanimous and urgent call was 
received by Mr. Todd, from the Howard Street Church, in 
Salem. The invitation was one which he felt strongly in- 
clined to accept. The tempestuous and unsettled state of 
public feeling about him made him long for a more peaceful 
and hopeful field of labor; and Salem w T as then "the second 
place in New England as to size, and the first as to need of 
evangelical labor." His judgment and wishes leaned toward 
Salem ; but the moment that his people heard of it, they 
were "all in an uproar," and could not endure the thought 
of his leaving them, and so strong and touching appeals 
were made to him that his feelings were all enlisted in be- 
half of his familiar flock. At one time he decided, against 
his judgment, not to go ; and went off to attend the meeting 
of the General Association at Northampton, and preach a 
sermon before it. Soon after his return, in consequence of 
renewed pressure from others, and from his own convictions 
of duty, he formally asked his church for a dismission, at 
the same time declaring that he could not decide what his 
duty was, and laying the responsibility upon them. They 
unanimously voted not to dismiss him or call a council, and 
assumed the entire responsibility. In the mean time, in an- 
ticipation of a different result, Mr. Todd had sold his house, 
and must vacate it within two months. In this state of un- 
certainty he determined to send his wife and children to her 
father's for a visit, while he himself went to Vermont to at- 



234 JOHN TODD. 

tend the meeting of the General Association of that State, 
to which he had been sent as a delegate. His hope was, 
that, in his absence, events would make the path of duty 
more clear, and that his own mind, removed from excite- 
ment, would become more settled. 

" Middlebury, Vt., September 7th. 

"I found my sisters better off as to this world than I ex- 
pected. They have good homes, and enough of every thing ; 
and both have very kind husbands. I can not sufficiently 
express my deep regret that you could not come with me. 
I think much of you and the dear children, and though you 
may not send your thoughts up over these high mountains, yet 
I shall think much of you till I see you. You never seemed 
so perfect and so good a wife as at this moment ; and while 
I thank God for having given you to me, I hope I shall prize 
vou more and more. You must forgive me any and all my 
faults, if I have ever failed to treat you as you deserve, or 
as I ought. I do not expect to hear any thing at present 
from Groton. It seems as if I could not long endure this 
awful state of suspense." 

"Saratoga Springs, September 22d. 

"The home of my poor sister, I found to be lonely beyond 
description, though very pleasant. The house was planned 
by her, and, for its size, could not be more convenient. Even 
the trees and shrubbery in the yard were hers, and grow 
green and beautiful, though the hand that planted and nur- 
tured them is gone. She must have been a good mother. 
She was walking, and kissing her beautiful babe, but fifteen 
minutes before she was in eternity. The yard is full of 
trees and roses planted by her hand. Her husband has dug 
up four of the most beautiful, and replanted them : they 
now bend over her grave. I hardly ever felt worse than 
when I left the four little motherless ones. The youngest 
clung to me, and seemed determined to claim me as his own. 
The people there all loved Mary exceedingly. As I was 
standing over the grave, a man tried to console me in these 
words, 'We all loved her, sir, more than we knew of, and 
we dug her the handsomest grave you ever looked into."' 

It had been a part of his plan to visit a brother in New 
York State, whom he had not seen for nineteen years ; but 
his anxiety about Groton would not permit him to prolong 



LIFE AT OROTON. 235 

his journey. On his return he found nothing yet settled; 
the Salem people as importunate, his own people as resolute, 
as ever. Again he laid before the church his request for a 
council. The request was granted, and the council met, and 
"the church had a meeting, and took back all that they had 
said and done, and wept and prayed, and then presented 
themselves in such an attitude that the council could not re- 
sist them." The council decided not to sanction his dismis- 
sion ; and as he had left the whole question for their decision, 
he now brought back his family, and prepared to re-establish 
his home, and to resume his work in all sincerity. It was, 
however, a difficult thing to do. There was no house to be 
bought or rented, and every thing was unsettled. But, more 
than all, the charm was broken. The ten thousand delicate 
and subtle fibres that bound the tree to the soil had been 
broken and weakened by the storm. The pastoral relation 
rarely long survives such a shock. Accordingly, when, in 
December, a unanimous call came from a church in North- 
ampton, where he had preached before the General Asso- 
ciation in June, he was ready to listen to it. Taught by ex- 
perience, he asked no advice, and allowed the call no pub- 
licity, till he had quietly formed an irrevocable decision. 
To such a decision his people could offer no objection. He 
was dismissed almost immediately ; but his thoughts never 
ceased to turn back to Groton with peculiar love. 

"O flock led by my youth, tender and kind to forgive my 
imperfections, dear to my memory as the apple of the eye, 
may peace ever rest upon you, and a light, pure, bright and 
warm, go up from your altar, and hang far over the hills and 
valleys around you !" 



236 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 

A beautiful Town.— In the Town-hall.— The Building-spot.— No Stores.— 
An anxious Day.— A judicious Irishman.— The Baptist Meeting-house.— 
A Revival.— Bitter Memories.— The sick Child.— Just alive.— Out of Dan- 
ger.— The Communion-plate.— A green Spot.— New Theology.— Nothing- 
Accomplished. —Error Misapprehended.— A Son.— Dedication.— Always 
too Late— Ramming down. —The Devil losing Ground.— Meetings ! Meet- 
ings !— The Baby at Church.— The Ministry at Fault.— A Book. 

The beautiful town of Northampton, nestling in the 
meadows of the Connecticut River, in the heart of Mas- 
sachusetts, is one of the older towns in the State, and has 
many interesting historic associations, not the least of which 
is the fact that it was there that Jonathan Edwards preached 
and wrote and suffered. The parish over which he had been 
settled had increased with the growth of the town, till in 
1831 it contained over two thousand eight hundred souls, 
and the division of it, which had long been strenuously re- 
sisted, became manifestly necessary. Accordingly, a few of 
the brethren consulted together and adopted measures, and 
shortly afterward asked and received permission from the 
old church to organize themselves into a new church and 
society. Their first step Avas to invite Mr. Todd to become 
their pastor. His ministry among them began in the town- 
hall, January 20th, 1833, at which time there was in existence 
no church, society, Sunday-school, house of worship, or any 
thing but the congregation, which then met for the first time. 
It was beginning at the very foundation. 

" January 18th. 

" We arrived night before last, very cold, very tired, but 
all well. We left the people in Groton feeling well and 
kindly toward us. We do not think we made a single en- 
emy by coming, and yet they lamented it quite enough, and 
they and we suffered quite enough. Our prospects here are 
sufficiently flattering. Almost all of my church will be 
young men, and men of a very high order. We are now 



LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 237 

boarding, and have not yet decided upon a house. They 
have selected three, none of which is such as they want we 
should have." Subsequently the people purchased a house 
on Market Street, " for which we pay them one hundred dol- 
lars rent. I have the same salary that I had in Groton, with 
the promise that it shall be increased to one thousand dol- 
lars yearly, as soon as the people are able." 

The 30th of January witnessed the double solemnities of 
the organization of the church, and the installation of the 
pastor, the Friday preceding having been observed as a day 
of fasting and prayer. The sermon in the morning, at the 
organization of the church, was preached by the pastor elect. 
The church was organized as the Edwards Church, with 
ninety- nine members, of whom forty -four were men, and 
adopted the articles of faith and covenant which Mr, Todd 
had drawn up for his church in Groton. The installation 
took place in the afternoon, Doctor Hawes, of Hartford, 
preaching the sermon. A few months later the Edwards 
Church Society was incorporated by act of legislature. 

" February 26th. 

"Our place of worship is full; and we have much fewer 
than if we had better accommodations; and, what is more, 
the audience is solemn, and we begin to hope that there are 
tokens of the special presence of the Lord* At the union 
prayer-meeting on Friday evenings we have as many as four 
hundred to pray." 

" March 3d. 
" We feel the decay of grandmother more than you might 
expect. We rejoice that she is so calm, and hope the pas- 
sage will be straight and bright and easy. It is a great thing 
to die. I think of it more, though I do not know as I grow 

better prepared for it, every day We can not tell as to 

our prospects here ; there is a strong, almost bitter attach- 
ment to the old house and the old establishment, ajid for the 
first year or two we may have hard lifting. They make quite 
as much opposition as Christians ought to make To- 
day our committee have purchased a building -spot for the 
meeting-house. It is nearly opposite the old meeting-house 
—decidedly the best spot in town. The man who sold it is 
a bitter Unitarian : nobody expected he would sell, and yet 
he has done so. The heart is in the hand of the Lord." 

16 



238 JOHN TODD. 

"March 5th. 
"This evening Mr. Rowe, of Groton, arrived, we having 
sent for him to come and draw plans of a house, make esti- 
mates, etc. He has refused six meeting-houses this win- 
ter." Mr. Rowe, it will be recollected, was the builder of 
the meeting-house in Groton. 

"March 8th. 

"All the forenoon the building committee, of whom I have 
to be one, met Mr. Rowe, and talked over plans. We are 
to have the house of brick, and so constructed as to seat one 
thousand people without crowding. In the afternoon, our 
little church came together, to see if they could prevent 
having stores under it, which we proposed to do on account 
of the great expense of the land, and saw no way to avoid. 
They determined that they would not have stores; and of 
the two thousand dollars which were needed to prevent it, 
they raised seventeen hundred on the spot." 

" March 13th. 

"A very anxious day. In the afternoon we had a meet- 
ing of our people, to see if we could raise money for the 
house. The sum which must be raised for the house and 
land is twelve thousand dollars. It was a very anxious 
time with me, but we came out of the meeting feeling bet- 
ter. Nine thousand dollars were on the paper at the close 
of the meeting. This exceeded my expectations." 

"The First Church met this afternoon, and voted a call to 
Doctor Penney. It is thought he will undoubtedly accept. 
He is an Irishman — came over in 1819 — taught school at 
Flatbush, New York, first, then settled at Rochester: seems 
to be a moderate, judicious, sober, good man." 

"April 28th. 

" We are now worshiping in a new brick meeting-house 
(owned by the Baptists in Boston), while ours is building, 
and it is full of people, galleries and all : we have not pews 
enough. The conoq-esfation is solemn and very attentive. I 
have had between thirty and forty attend the inquiry-meet- 
ing within three weeks, and two hopeful conversions." 

"May 3d. 

"We have been moving and shifting and repairing and 
cleaning, wearied and hurried almost to death. We are now 
at housekeeping in our new and beautiful house, and our 



LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 239 

prospects for domestic comforts are too great. I feel afraid, 
absolutely afraid, that we are to receive some severe and 
merited chastisements, to counterbalance these many, many 

comforts and conveniences." " I wish that would not 

always feel so jealous, and be throwing out her intimations 
that she is forgotten and forsaken, and the like. It is not 
so. Nobody is forgotten who is worthy of being remem- 
bered ; and such suspicions always bring upon us the very 
things which we deprecate. She must know that, with the 
entire weight of my mother to carry, it is impossible for me 
to do more. So far as my means go, I have never been ac- 
cused of being stingy or ungrateful. Any thing I could do 
for her I would most cheerfully." 

"June 9th. 
"Doctor Penney was installed last Wednesday. It seems 
as if we should get along very well together. I should 
think him a man very free from' jealous feelings, and if so, 
there will be no difficulty. We have been tried and trou- 
bled for ' help,' till I wished society reduced to the primi- 
tive simplicity of eating roots, and the man to roast them, 
pots and kettles not being invented. At last we have a girl 
— very good; but we don't know how long she will stay 
with us, as she intends to be married as soon as ■ he ' is 
ready. Our meeting-house is to be enlarged, with the ex- 
pectation that my popularity will fill it up at once. Too 
large, as it has galleries. We shall have to use all the econ- 
omy which is possible, in order to live. The people are very 
kind. Hardly a day passes but we have a little present of 
some kind or other." 

To William L. Chaplin. 

"June 17th. 
"I went into the Post-office after meeting, the other even- 
ing, and found your letter. I broke it open on the spot, 
and ran it over. It was dark, and I went crying all the way 
home. I cried almost all night over it, and it made me 
down sick. Do not, I entreat of you, ever allude to the past 
again. You delayed writing so long that I concluded your 
silence would never be broken, and mournfully supposed our 
friendship was at an end till we met on the shores of immor- 
tality, where I trusted it would be renewed, to flow, like the 
river of God, forever. I am so well situated that I could 



240 JOHN TODD. 

not wish any thing better, were there no remembrance of 
the past. Let memory cease to throw the past so vividly 
upon the soul, and that, too, in such burning colors, and I 
would not ask for more. You are the only man living whom 
I have ever met whom I could call and feel to be a friend. 
You will be the last, as well as the first. 'Very pleasant 
hast thou been unto me; thy love to me was wonderful, 
passing the love of women.' Oh, my heart will bleed over 
our separation till the hand of death has stilled it ! May 
you find a brighter side to your tears than I can to mine." 

"July 27th. 

"On Monday of this week little Martha began to show 
symptoms of being out of health. We were not troubled 
till Tuesday afternoon, when we called a physician. She is 
now very sick. Two physicians are at her bedside, apply 
ing leeches to her throat : fever very high, distress great. 
Dear babe ! we have done hoping that she can live. Dear 
Saviour, may we be prepared to give back this dear, sweet 
spirit to thee — to thy arms — to thy bosom !" 

" Half-past one o'clock, Sabbath morning. 

"The doctor has remained here all night, so far; a great 
alteration in her within two hours : she is but just alive. 
Mrs. Todd and myself have just been kneeling in the study, 
and surrendering back this dear child into the hands of its 
Redeemer. She may live several hours, but the doctor 
gives us to understand that she may not but a few minutes. 
It seems as if no child could ever be dearer than this. We 
have loved her too much." 

"Five o'clock, Sabbath morning. 

"The child still alive. The fever fit has subsided: the 
whole body, except the hands, cold and livid. Though life 
still lingers in her frail body, we have no hope of her living." 

"Nine o'clock. 

"Doctor Penney has just called, and will supply my pul- 
pit to-day : a very great favor indeed, as I am not fit to 
be about." 

"Two o'clock p.m. 

" Oh that you could see the beautiful one once more, ere 
the spark which even now lights up her eye is quenched for- 
ever ! But we have not a word to say. We have had the 
keeping of this dear babe longer than we deserve ; and now, 



LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 241 

at any hour or moment, we must be ready to deliver her up 
into the hands of her heavenly Father." 

"Eight o'clock p.m. 

" The poor child is still with us. She is quiet, but breathes 
badly. I should not be surprised at any moment to be 
called to close her eyes. Oh, the anguish of memory, and 
of anticipation, and of fear !" 

"Monday, noon. 

" Every medicine seems to work well, but there is no sub- 
duing the disease. It is controlled, but is gradually wearing 
the dear child out. The physicians have both just left, evi- 
dently discouraged." 

"Five o'clock p.m. 

"I go to her bedside and gaze, and hear her short groans, 
as long as I can stay, and then go away to weep. Wonder- 
ful skill ! in creating and planting in the human heart that 
wonderful passion which we call parental! As I go about 
the house (and oh, this feeling is to increase to agony !) I 
see her little chair, her clothes, her things : here she sat, 
there she sung, there she gave me her sweet looks ; every 
spot is associated with the past, and with fear. Her little 
swing, her place at the table, are empty ; and when I tell 
you that there is to my mind no hope that they will ever 
again be filled, you will know how to feel and sympathize 
with us. I have never recovered from the scenes attending 
the death of our first-born. It seems as if even now I could 
see its countenance, its eye, and hear its cries." 

"Six o'clock p.m. 

" I come every little while to my study, and take my pen 

as a sort of alleviation. For the last hour and a half the 

frequent shrieks and cries of the little sufferer have been 

filling the house, and I can most plainly hear every one in 

my study now." 

"Half-past eight o'clock p.m. 

" I know we ought not to refuse to give this dear one, 

this sweet child, back to her Maker and Father: she must 

be better off than with us; but oh, the agony of breaking 

the heart-strings! Before this reaches you she may 'be in 

heaven : she probably will be." 

"Midnight. 
" She looks like alabaster, with a rose painted on the 
cheek." 



242 JOHX TODD. 

"Tuesday morning, six o'clock. 
"The physicians both in. They seem amazed at the 
strength of constitution which can live under such a fever. 
The flush is gone from the cheek, but the pulse is not dimin- 
ished. The only hope with the physicians, and it is a very 
small one, is that she can sustain the disease till it has spent 
itself. They have been able to control it somewhat, and 
that is all. Poor Mary ! she wanders lonely about the 
house, now trying to amuse herself, and now weeping in se- 
cret, and now weeping aloud." 

"Half-past eleven o'clock a.m. 

" It now seems evident that the poor sufferer is near her 
end. The powers of life are failing, and rapidly. No hu- 
man skill can do any thing. She now lies in a deep slum- 
ber, the fever still upon her, hardly moving the white sheet 
over her as she breathes. I have been trying to lay her 
gently in the arms of her heavenly Father; but oh, how 
hard, how hard to lay such a child even on the bosom of 
Jesus !" 

"One o'clock p.m. 

" For the last hour and a half we have supposed Martha 
was beginning that sleep from which she will not be awaked 
till the morning of the resurrection. She has every appear- 
ance of dying." 

"Half-past eight o'clock p.m. 

" She lies comfortable now ; has lived far, far beyond the 
expectations of all. Every hour we fear will be the last, 
and at every encouragement we catch. I fear Mrs. Todd 
will fall under it. If she lies down, a shriek from Martha 
will bring her to the bedside." 

"Eleven o'clock p.m. 

"Martha woke from a sleep, shrieking, ' Mother, mother! 
father, father !' Mrs. Todd and myself had lain down a few 
minutes. I was at her side in a moment, and her mother 
soon. But all to no purpose ; she was lost, and seemed aw- 
fully frightened. She kept crying the same thing, till we 
could administer a powerful anodyne, and have it take ef- 
fect." 

" Half-past four o'clock, Wednesday morning. 

" The physicians both here. They are gratified to see how 
marvelously the little creature bears medicine." 



LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 243 

"Wednesday, noon. 

" The physicians have been in once in about an hour, seem- 
ing very anxious to know whether the quiet of the dear 
child is that which immediately precedes death, or that 
which indicates the yielding of the power of the disease. 
They are satisfied that it is the latter. Thanks be to God ! 
hope once more shines into our anxious hearts, but shines 
but faintly." 

" Thursday morning. 

"The physicians say that she is yet dreadfully diseased; 
yet they can not but take courage, because it would seem 
to them that if she were to die she would have sunk away 
before this." 

" Friday evening, sunset. 

" Little Martha is pronounced* out of danger ; and, though 
she is very restless and very sick yet, there is no return of 
the disease, and she is most manifestly better. The crisis 
was on Tuesday. She gets better imperceptibly; but we 
bless God that we may now hope that she may live, and be 
spared to us. We trust you will unite with us in giving 
thanks to God for his great goodness. It will require very 
great care and patience and labor to raise her from this 
point." 

"August 26th. 

"Our little Martha has been sp # ared to us, though she has 
but just lived. She is now so that she walks a very few 
steps, and has begun to ride out. She is still Very feeble, 
and it has been a world of care to get along with her. Ev- 
ery thing in my prospects looks fair ; but I have lived too 
long not to expect the rising of clouds, and from any part 
of the heavens." 

" September 24th. 

"The First Church met and voted to give the Edwards 
Church five hundred dollars out of their fund, which is 
eleven hundred dollars, that they might procure as good 
communion plate as they chose. This step will do more 
good to both churches than four times the amount of money. 
It is exceedingly pleasant to us, and will make all parties 
feel better. And this evening I have had the present of an 
elegant new suit of clothes, all made up, from some members 
of the old church." It will be perceived from this that, in 



244 JOHN TODD. 

spite of some unavoidable jealousies, the relations of the 
two churches to one another were far more pleasant than 
those between a colony and its parent church often are. 
Mr. Todd himself also, as will presently be seen, was much 
thought of by the old church, and performed a great deal 
of work for them. With their pastors — for old Mr. Williams, 
their superannuated pastor, was still with them — he was al- 
ways on the friendliest terms. Years afterward Doctor Pen- 
ney wrote : " Often, and. with deep feeling of its truth and 
value, have I borne my testimony, both publicly and pri- 
vately, to the priceless worth of fidelity and love between 
ministers, based on our experience in Northampton. That 
was truly a green spot in my pilgrimage, which brightens 
with the lapse of years, and will, I think, seem bright in 
heaven." With Mr. Williams, who was old and feeble, he 
had less intercourse, but in what there was he maintained 
the attitude and feelings of a son, and it was to this aged 
pastor that he presented his own little boy for baptism. 
Thus, for the second time, he was called to the somewhat 
difficult position of a minister subordinate to men of supe- 
rior position or more advanced in years, and by his conduct 
in it earned the kindness of others when he himself should 
become an aged pastor. 

"It is marvelous that I have got along so well, consider- 
ing my difficult situation^ with both societies. The minis- 
ters in this region meet at Doctor Penney's, or in my study, 
every Monday morning, for conversation, discussion, etc., and 
it is very pleasant indeed." 

" October 29th. 

"I see that yon are to have a new theological seminary in 
Connecticut. We are to have some of your Connecticut the- 
ology here yet ; and when and where it will begin, and when 

and where it will end, is more than I dare predict. C 

thinks that none will hereafter come on the stage as preach- 
ers who are not Taylorites, and that the rejecters of that sys- 
tem will soon be only those who are too old and obstinate to 
see light. It may be so ; but of this I feel assured, that, to 
counterbalance the evils which it has already caused, Tay- 
lorism ought to do very much for the world, and pour an 
abundance of oil of joy into the wounded bosom of the 
daughter of Zion." 



LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 245 

. " October 30th. 

" I was never so busy as of late, and yet never accom- 
plished less of what I wished and determined upon. Is 
there no way of studying without wearisomeness to the 
flesh ; no way of seizing time and compelling it to leave 
something behind it upon which we can look with pleasure? 
What with feeding the body thrice daily, resting it a long 
night on a soft bed, and clothing and warming it continu- 
ally, there is left to the soul but a fraction of time in which 
to act, to say nothing about reading poor papers, and seeing 
stupid company, and attending to ten thousand calls to pro- 
mote the supreme selfishness of others. I begin to feel that 
I shall never acquire or create that unconquerable, unquench- 
able fire which is so necessary to prevent life from running 
through the fingers, leaving not a distinct mark or remem- 
brance behind. Sometimes I lay out a good plan, and have 
something that fills the mind, like Cicero's ' aliquid immen- 
sum infinitumque,' and which seems not entirely beyond the 
reach ; but the next call, or the next jog, puts all to flight, 
and leaves me lower than ever in the scale of self-satisfaction. 
Did you ever see an 'agent?' When will their number be 
filled up? As their number increases, so does their brazen- 
faced impudence. I am sick of the very name of agent." 

" November 14th. 

"Even in this beautiful valley, where the waters murmur soft 
as those of Siloa, the heart of man is selfish and proud and full 
of sin. The waters of life flow unheeded, and there is more 
eagerness to see Henry Clay than to see One greater than he." 

"November 22d. 

"Religion is low here, to a degree that is awful and 
alarming. The slumbers of death seem upon us. What to 
do, or which way to turn, or what will be the final result, I 
know not. I ponder somewhat over your new theological 
school, and, living in a day when all manner of experiments 
are made, and most succeed, I feel too modest to predict its 

fate. Professor complains of misapprehension ! It is 

always the fate of error to be misapprehended. When was 
it otherwise? We have a new violin, and a new double- 
bass viol, besides a common viol, in our choir, to say noth- 
ing of flutes, etc. Don't you think we can sing ? Well, we 
can't, if you do think so." 



246 JOHN TODD. 

"December 6th. 

"You will rejoice with us, I trust, in the goodness of God. 
This morning our dear son was given to us — a beautiful, 
well-proportioned boy. I had made up my mind to leave 
it wholly with God, and to be contented, whether it were a 
son or a daughter; but when distress seemed to be over, 
and it was announced that it was a son, my eyes at once 
filled, and more than filled, with tears of joy. 

"The question is coming up, is it proper and right for a 
Christian at this day to keep back any part of his property 
from the service of Christ, and lay it up for his children ? 
Can you answer it ? I am in no particular danger of sinning 
in this way at present. 

"A National Anti-slavery Society is about to be formed 
at Philadelphia, and then auxiliaries are to be formed, and 
then a warfare is begun such as this country has never 
seen. God grant that it result in nothing worse than the 
outpouring of passions in words. 

"I have been reading the Life of Robert Hall with in- 
tense interest. A wonderful man ! A sun in brightness 
and splendor and glory, with large and dark spots upon 
him." 

From Mrs. Brace. 

"December 12th. 

"They think of calling the little boy Jonathan Edwards. 
It will probably be the first child baptized in the Edwards 
•house. Mr. Todd has just received a note containing sev- 
enty-five dollars, saying that they had taken off his sub- 
scription for the meeting-house, and sent it back, with 
twenty-five dollars additional." 

The dedication of the new meeting-house took place on 
Christmas- day, the sermon being preached by the pastor, 
on the influence of the pulpit. The building was severely 
simple, but was considered as handsome as any thing in 
New England outside of Boston. "I never expected to 
have any thing like it." It was destroyed by fire in 1867, 
and replaced with a still better structure. 

"January 1st, 1834. 

"We can not say what our audience will be hereafter, 
but it was large last Sabbath — very large; twice as large 
as before we left the Baptist house. Our pews sold wonder- 



LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 247 

fully well — between nine and ten thousand dollars in one 
afternoon; so that we shall have no trouble in paying for 
the beautiful house. Mr. Chaplin came to the dedication, 
and got here in the evening. Always too late ! He- will 
live to a good old age, if he is as long in dying as he is in 
beginning to live and do any thing. 

" We had a poor kind of installation at Amherst. I have 
never met the man educated across the water who had a 
mind disciplined by severe theological education. There is 
no ramming down of the mind, as in New England. Why, 
I do not know; but the fact is unquestionable." 

"January 24th. 

" We held meetings every evening last week, and are go- 
ing to continue them this week. The tide of feeling is ris- 
ing with us. A very solemn meeting this evening, and two 
have been to see me, anxious for the soul. Our meetings 
are held together, and the two churches are completely 
melted together, and run together in great harmony and 
love and unity." 

"March 3d. 
"I am so worn out by duties and labors, that I have no 
time, no strength, no courage, and no desire, to move or to 
do any thing, except as I must. Martha has been getting 
better, but Mary has been sick; and what with being up 
nights, and attending one, two, or four meetings daily, and a 
uniform course of toothache, I have got down. The revival 
has been going on, still, silent, decided, and glorious. I do 
not know the number of inquirers. In my own little con- 
gregation there are over a hundred, of whom between forty 
and fifty are rejoicing in light. We have about two hun- 
dred and fifty at the inquiry-meeting, and there are proba- 
bly over three hundred in town, if not nearer five hundred, 
who are inquirers. I never worked so hard in my life, and 
never learned human nature so fast. I am glad to say that 
I think the old way of doing things is getting in vogue here, 
though there are very many who would catch quick, and be 
glad to be off in a world of excitement. It is so much eas- 
ier to have a protracted meeting, and rouse up, and make a 
noise, and then go to sleep again, than to repent, and live 
out religion. Just as some families would prefer having a 
great 'foe'once a year to doing the work themselves. In 



248 JOHN TODD. 

all our meetings we continue united, and every thing seems 
to work well. That we shall have trouble from some quar- 
ter or other is to be expected. It would be an unheard-of 
thing for the devil to give up so much ground, and not 
make a noise about it. 

" We feel glad, and, I hope, grateful (though there is a 
difference between the two things), that we are so far spared 
and recovered, and that Mrs. Todd can get out once more. 
Surely this is one of the most favored spots in the wide 
world ; and we could not reasonably expect ever to be so 
well off in this life as we are at this moment." 

"March 30th. 

" Meetings, meetings, meetings ! I am worn out, and cry 
for a separation of the two churches, but can get none. We 
have nine or ten meetings every morning for prayer at six 
o'clock, and all full, solemn, and good. Every evening we 
have some public meeting, and frequently two. Our house 
lias been opened for worship almost every night. Conver- 
sions are very common, though not as common. There have 
been over ninety in my little congregation who have hoped 
in Christ. Almost every man in my congregation is hope- 
fully converted. I really work more and harder for Doctor 
Penney's people than I do for my own. They seem to en- 
joy it ; but we should do better to go alone. Our Sabbath- 
school is in fine order. One class has sixteen young men 
in it, all of them over sixteen years of age, and all of them 
Christians. One class of young ladies contains twelve, and 
every one of them has become hopefully pious during this 
revival. My. church appear well, and seem to be setting 
out well. We have now about six more to be added to us 
by letter, one of them from Doctor Penney's church, and 
they scolded so that I do not know when another will dare 
to come to us. They are as tenacious as if we were Unita- 
rians, and some of them more so." 

"April 7th. 

"Little John Edwards went to meeting yesterday. Fa- 
ther Williams baptized him, and all went off to admiration. 
He looked beautiful, and behaved like a man." 

" April 10th. 

"I was gone all Wednesday, attending a council ; worked 
hard all day, and fear I did not accomplish much, though it 



LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 249 

may be the beginning of healing to a church which has 
been shipwrecked and torn asunder by too violent a minis- 
ter. I lay more fault and blame at the door of the minis- 
try, when such evils arise, than I used to do. I believe they 
usually, by some injudicious measures, produce the evils. 
Yesterday I was gone all day also, to attend a protracted 
meeting at Southampton : full, and I hope good will be 
done, though I have less and less faith in such meetings 
every day I live. It seems to me I would give a finger to 
see the time when I need not mourn over things all around 
me which I ought to do, but can not. As for study, a new 
idea has not come within half a mile of my head for months. 
I never expect to study any more. It is a dead set. We 
are ut semper — which is about all the Latin I can remem- 
ber." 

"May 22d. 
"I send you my little volume of 'Lectures to Children,' 
and I beg you to be kind enough to read it at once, and send 
me instanter any suggestions, hints, remarks, or criticisms 
which you may please. As I have said in the preface, I 
have preached such kind of talk once a quarter; but the 
fact is, when I began to prepare the book (since my dedica- 
tion sermon was published), I had but one of them written. 
I have made the book during all the labors of the revival. 
I intend to give a copy to each of my two hundred Sabbath- 
school children. These cost me sixty dollars — rather more 
than my income on the first edition. I do most earnestly 
hope the book will meet with your approbation, and, above 
all, with the approbation of God." 



250 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

life at Northampton — continued. 

Vacation.— A Presentiment. — The Red Sea.— The Devil's Invention. — An 
Organ Difficult}-.— The old Pastor's Sunset.— Mrs. Todd an Author.— Keep 
Cool. — Mount Holyoke Seminary. — A new House. — Student's Manual.— 
Under the Wheel.— The Door Locked.— A Call.— Frozen Rattlesnakes.— 
A Revival.— Council in Philadelphia.— A loud Call.— Hangs back. — Beech- 
er at the Oar. — A gloomy Time.— A great Move. — A pleasant Home Broken 
Up. — Farewell to Northampton. 

The labors and anxieties of the revival and of authorship 
had so worn upon Mr. Todd that in July he took a short 
vacation, and, in company with Doctor Penney, started for 
Saratoga Springs. The stage -route took them through 
Pittsfield, over whose beauty, little dreaming of any more 
intimate relation to it in the future, Mr. Todd was eloquent 
in sundry letters to the local papers. 

From Saratoga he continued his journey to Lewis County, 
to visit his oldest brother, whom he had long wished to see. 

Dictated by William C. Todd. 
"For eighteen years I had not seen John, and I asked a 
young man going to Massachusetts to call at his house in 
Northampton, and ask him to come out to see me. The 
young man delivered the message, and brought me back 
word that he did not think he could get away from home 
that summer. At that time Lewis County was a new, 
rough country, and I lived in a log-house with two rooms, 
in each of which was a bed. It was a warm July night, and, 
my little child being restless, I told my wife I would take the 
baby and go into the front room. There it grew quiet, and 
I soon fell asleep. I slept a little, but soon woke suddenly. 
It seemed to me I heard, almost audibly spoken, ' Your 
brother is coming.' I reasoned with myself how impossible 
it was for either of my brothers to come. Jonathan wrote 
he could not, and John sent word he could not. A second 
time I started from sleep, feeling the same impression. 



LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 251 

Again I settled that it must all be imagination, and fell 
asleep again. Once more I was awakened by wife's calling 
to me that some one was knocking. I jumped up, slipped 
on my clothes, and, opening the door, I saw a stranger. I 
stirred up the embers, still alive in the great fire-place, but 
I could not recognize the features. He said, 'You do not 
know who I am !' I looked again critically, and said, 'Yes, 
I do know you : you are my brother John.' It was the only 
presentiment I ever had. He had hired a man to bring him 
over from Denmark in a buggy, and on the way they passed 
a school -house where there was a prayer-meeting, and a 
woman's voice was heard in prayer. He made the driver 
stop the horse, that he might listen ; he asked him if this 
was common in this part of the country, as he was not used 
to it in Massachusetts, where the women held prayer-meet- 
ings by themselves. The man said that with us it was com- 
mon. John came just at the right time. This was Wednes- 
day night ; and he staid until Monday, and preached twice 
on the Sabbath, and I united with the church in the after- 
noon. My wife joined the church soon after. We had had 
quite a revival ; and the Baptists proposed forming a union 
church. Committees from three churches were chosen, to 
confer concerning the creed. As the Baptists had proposed 
union, the others asked them how applicants should receive 
baptism. The answer was prompt, 'By the only Script- 
ural way.' ' What is that ?' ' Immersion.' They retired, to 
report to the churches, and never met again. The people 
were to have another meeting, to see what should be done. 
Hearing of this meeting, John said he w T ould attend, and he 
went in, and sat near the pulpit. After a while he rose, and 
said he would tell them a little about Massachusetts. He 
said they had just given the Baptists ten thousand dollars 
to help the Burmah mission ; but they had just had a re- 
vival, and though many Methodists had communed with 
them, he never heard of but one Baptist who did, and he 
never knew how they disposed of his 'case. He went on: 
'My brethren, your table is too narrow; you must make it 
broader ; you must spread the -Z/ord's table.' At this a Bap- 
tist sister was so discouraged that she knelt right down and 
prayed that the brother's heart might be changed, and told 
the Lord they had come to the Red Sea, and she did not see 



252 JOHN TODD. 

how they could ever get across to dry land. Another sister 
followed, and, as I did not like such talk, I took my hat and 
went out. But John staid through ; and as he was coming 
out of the meeting a Methodist came up and thanked him, 
and said he would remember him as long as he lived ; he did 
not think they could have union, and now he was convinced 
they could not. John replied, 'It would not do for you to 
say such things, but I am a stranger; and if any one is to 
be blamed for kicking over the basin of porridge, it had 
better be I.' " 

On his return from this short vacation, his labors were as 
great as ever. " I am hurried beyond measure. I have this 
week to visit two academies, attend five meetings, write two 
sermons, letters, give advice to two distracted churches, and 
have been sent for to sit in two quarreling councils. So it 
is all the time. You have no idea of the misery of having 
such a constant run of company, inviting and going, and in- 
viting and going the whole time. If the devil had not both 
hands in the invention of tea, I know not who had." 

" October 28th. 

"For some time my people have been in commotion about 
music, especially in regard to an organ. Where we shall 
come out is more than I dare say. It seems sometimes as 
if the ship would founder in the storm. I am not implicated, 
though of course it is known that I have an opinion on the 
question. I believe they will have an organ, but it may be 
the means of splitting us all in pieces. I sit and gaze at 
the storm, trusting it all with Him who ' stilleth the tumult 
of the people.' 

"Father Williams is alive, though we have been expect- 
ing for some time that every day would be his last. He is 
rational, clear, collected, humble, and happy. He appears 
exceedingly well, and his sun grows brighter and brighter 
as it goes down. The angel of the everlasting covenant 
stands by him. He holds firmly on to the old and great 
doctrines of the Bible, aud makes them his stay in this 
hour." 

" December 1st. 

"Mrs. Todd is actually coming out in the world. She is 
preparing a little selection of poems for the press, which she 
calls ' Gleanings for the Xursery,' and will probably have it 



LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 253 

through the press in a few weeks. Would you have thought 
it ? But what is the use of having talented wives, if one 
may not tell of it ? and what is the use of having friends in 
Connecticut, if we may not tell all the smart things which 
we are doing, and are going to do? I have had fine offers 
from New York and Boston, if I will write again ; but I am 
a curious creature : when I have found I can do a thing, I 
never want to do it again. I do suppose I could make a 
small fortune with my pen, were I to give myself to it; but 
I have such a reluctance to doing it, that I sometimes feel 
ready to vow never to think of the press again. I say noth- 
ing about doing good ; for in a heart as bad as mine I am 
afraid to inquire about that motive." 

" February 1st, 1835. 

" Tired, tired, tired ! I don't know as I should have tried 
to write a word, if the peculiar modesty of Mrs. Todd had 
not come near making you believe that some parts of her 
book are not original. You must know they are, and I es- 
teem it, taken in all its 'circumstances,' as one of the won- 
ders of the age. But do not give her all the credit. Mag- 
na pars fai — some of her best are mine. What will not 
come next? Shall we all turn book-makers and witlings? 
I have imagined myself in almost all conditions, from that 
of being an emperor to that of a boot-black, and yet never 
had a fancy to place myself in the chair of an author. But 
'hunger will go through a stone wall,' and, for aught I 
know, I may yet write for the salt of my porridge." 

"April 1st. 

"You know I have been sick; was on my back nearly a 
fortnight, and all my work and plans were thrown back 
about a month. I am not yet well; have half of my head 
aching and ulcerating from my teeth, and much of weakness 
left. My plans, business, courage — every thing — have sunk 
at times very low. My book (' Student's Manual') has wor- 
ried me prodigiously. It is all written save the last chapter. 
It is more than half stereotyped, and I can already begin to 
see out. When it is all written there will be an inconceiva- 
ble load of anxiety removed from my mind. I now feel that 
I shall never undertake to write for the press again. Even 
after it is all done, I have to groan under the apprehension 
of its failure, and smart under the flippant criticisms of a 

17 



254 JOHN TODD. 

thousand who do nothing in this world but snarl at oth- 
ers; and I have to ache for my publisher, lest he lose. No 
one who has not been through it can imagine the anxieties 
of authorship. I sometimes feel sorry that I ever touched 
it. 

" It makes me laugh to hear of father's sorrows about his 
good Jackson men. Let them have their meeting-house, 
and get to heaven, if they can ; and as for their scowling 
and hatred, it will all pass away in a short time, if you can 
keep cool. But don't be worried in the least; and especially 
don't let them see that you are worried, even if you are. 
These popular commotions and changes must always be 
taking place, as long as we are not kept quiet by a standing 
army. It is the very nature of man to be restless and rest- 
ive under all authority, human and divine ; and I do verily 
believe that the devil never hated any thing, since the days 
of the apostles, as he does pure Congregational churches." 

" April 22d. 

" We call the South Hadley school, ' The Mount Holyoke 
Female Seminary,' a name of my own. Is it not better than 
that Greek affair with which you quarreled so ?" This sem- 
inary was just starting at this time, chiefly through the la- 
bors of Miss Mary Lyon. Mr. Todd was one of the minis- 
ters who co-operated in it, and "a great meeting" had been 
held in Northampton a short time before, partly through his 
influence, to promote it. He never had much to do with it, 
however, except to give it its name. His removal from the 
vicinity soon after its establishment, and subsequently his 
dissatisfaction with some of its features, withdrew him from 
connection with it. 

The parsonage in Market Street having proved small and 
uncomfortable in the summer heat, Mr. Todd had been look- 
ing all winter for a chance to buy a pleasanter residence. 
"If I know my own heart, so far as myself is concerned, I 
care not a farthing about it. I do hope I sometimes am 
looking to a better home than I can ever find here. I have 
laid out this thing before God, and have asked him to do 
with me just as he pleases. Oh, if I could be wholly and 
entirely swallowed up in him, all things will be right ! I 
want my wife and babes should have a home, so that if I 
should be taken away they will not be turned out-of-doors. 



LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 255 

If I live, and have my health, and the countenance of ray 
friends, I can pay for a home ; if I do not, God will take 
care of all." 

" May 26th. 

" We are now fairly and fully moved into our new house 
in Pleasant Street. We were troubled by the family, who 
would neither redeem it nor go out. Then we had to white- 
wash, and yellow-wash, paint and paper, and scrub, scour, 
and sweep. We then had to move. Oh, what a job! 
Then we had carpets to fit, furniture to arrange, carpenters, 
painters, whitewashers, movers, and gardeners : then we 
had a load of grand cousins: then we had friends from Gro- 
ton: then we had a throng of company, and a world of 
hurry and worry, tear and rips. But we are fairly here, all 
well, have a fine house, fruit-trees, shade-trees, shrubbery in 
abundance, and now all in bloom. If we were not tired al- 
most to death, if we were not thronged with company, if 
we had no fear but we could support such an establishment, 
if we owed nothing toward it, if we had no fear of ever losing 
on it, if we could make all the repairs we want — in short, if 
we had no troubles, real or imaginary, we should do pretty 
well. The place is every way pleasant, convenient, central, 
retired, and in all respects more than answers my expecta- 
tions. I am satisfied that the purchase was judicious and 
proper. We plan and fix and work, so as to have every 
thing suit your eye ; and we keep saying to ourselves, ' How 
will father like that?' 'How would this strike mother?' In 
fact, this is the way with all ; we all work, not so much to 
be comfortable ourselves, as to convince others that we are 
comfortable. Our new organ is up: it is beautiful, well- 
proportioned, sweet in its tones, perfect, and in every way 
gives universal satisfaction. How many good things ! May 
we be thankful and humble, and devoted to the great work 
of serving Him who hath bought us." 

"June 28th. 

"I am greatly obliged to you for your kind commenda- 
tions of the Student's Manual. I have had several moody 
times, some of which have brought tears into my eyes, since 
that book came out, when I reflected that I have no father 
and no mother who can read that book, and say, 'My son, 
you have added to my joys.' Oh, why could it not have 



256 JOHN TODD. 

been permitted ine to have the high motive of pleasing one 
of my own kindred ! Alas ! poor I am one of the last twigs 
of one of the noblest families that ever relied on worth for 
name, and I shall soon follow them all. The book sells well, 
and I can not but hope it will do good." i 

In September the family paid a visit to Newington, trav- 
eling with their own horse, as usual. In an account of the 
return journey, Mrs. Todd wrote : "As we were going very 
slowly up a sandy hill, Mr. Todd walking, Mary proposed 
to get out. I told her she had better not do it, but before I 
had done speaking she jumped, and did not clear the wheel. 
The wheel threw her down, and, I suppose, went over her 
leg and hand. Being very much alarmed, I told Mr. Todd 
I believed the wheel had gone over her. He turned round, 
and found her lying between the two wheels. He was 
obliged to back the horse to get out her clothes. Nothing 
but the special providence of God prevented her from being 
killed. As we were going up the hill, and Mr. Todd was 
out, there was probably little weight on the front wheel." 

"October 27th. 

"I have got on a plan by which I study, and will study, 
in spite of all the world. I go into my room immediately 
after breakfast, and lock the door, and see neither man nor 
beast, sun, moon, nor stars, till dinner-time. This is really 
fine. I have had sixteen calls before dinner." 

" December 16th. 

"I am shut up with pains in teeth and head almost insup- 
portable, else I should write a long letter. You will see by 
the Gazette of to-day a rumor of my being called away. 
There is so much in it that I want to see you exceedingly." 
This refers to propositions received from the First Church 
in Utica, New York, which were afterward declined. " I 
am more than used up by Doctor Penney's parish and the 
neighboring parishes, all of whom seem to feel that it is a 
kindness to use me." Doctor Penney having accepted the 
presidency of Hamilton College, a great amount of parochial 
labor fell upon the remaining pastor. 

" February 22d, 1836. 

"We have been like rattlesnakes here, too much frozen 
even to rattle. I have never suffered so severely in any 
winter of my life. To-day we have had a most delightful 



LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 257 

day, the first for a long, long time. I have sunned and en- 
joyed it highly. No old goose ever crept out and cackled 
with a higher joy. But such a body of snow as we still 
have ! We have had to shovel it from the roof of our house, 
lest it come in upon us. It now begins to turn to water, 
and the warm rays of the sun to-day seem to go to its very 
heart and melt it in tenderness. I long once more to see 
my mother earth: never before have I been so long at a 
time without seeing her countenance. I am sorry to say 
there is no revival among my people, in the usual accepta- 
tion of that word. There have been perhaps two hopeful 
cases of conversion, and a few more are anxious. The church 
is becoming better, more engaged; but one misery is that 
the old church must go with us, i. e., must be carried by us. 
The two churches are now under a united course of visiting; 
but many of the visitors are so poor Christians that I am 
fearful it will do no good. A community needs to be under 
a very high state of excitement and attention to receive 
much good from cold, inefficient, and dead professors." 

From Mrs. Todd. 

"April 6th. 
" The state of things in our society is very interesting. 
Three weeks since, Mr. Todd held his first inquiry-meeting; 
there were eighteen. The next Sabbath evening there were 
twenty-five, and the next, over thirty, with an increase of so- 
lemnity. I suppose as many as twelve or fifteen are indulg- 
ing hope. The two churches are to unite to-morrow in the 
exercises of the fast, Mr. Todd to preach. I wish the old 
church would get a good minister. Mr. Todd has to per- 
form the labors, not of one great society, but of two. I have 
never known him so absolutely driven as at the present time. 
He is the chairman of four school committees, besides what 
he has to do for the district schools and building a boarding- 
house for Miss Dwight's school. He has all the parochial 
duty to perform for the town, besides having weddings and 
funerals to attend in other towns." 

In June he "was called to the city of Philadelphia, to as- 
sist in organizing the first Congregational, or New England, 
church ever gathered in that city," and to preach the ser- 
mon on that occasion. It w T as arranged that during his ab- 



258 JOHN TODD. 

sence he should leave his family with that of his father-in- 
law, who was called to the same council. " The children all 

dance at the idea of seeing Newington, except J. E. T ; 

he is too grave to dance." 

"June 24th. 

"All things look as if I should not go to Philadelphia. As 
I get away from the excitement and anxieties of the place, 
the more the difficulties seem to rise up, and the fear the 
ship can not weather the storms which are before her seems 
to increase. If I should go, the thing must go, or I must die 
in the attempt. But the hazard seems very great. The 
more I look at it, the more it seems doubtful whether they 
are sufficiently strong to weather the opposition which is 
coming, and to stand under the burdens which must come 
upon them as a matter of course. If they had not the united 
strength of Presbyterianism to contend with, and only the 
ordinary obstacles in the way, I should shrink less. Add to 
this, that my people here feel that it will be death to them, 
utter ruin, for me to leave them. I think the result will be 
that we stay where we are. The old Society here long 
to have me go, and would give all their old shoes to have 
me. This makes my situation here unpleasant, very unpleas- 
ant; but perhaps it is no reason why I should go. If I go, 
and lose in the opinion of men in this region, and then not 
succeed, it will very nearly destroy me, body and mind. 
Success, decided and splendid, and nothing else, would lead 
people to say and feel that I had done right in going. Is 
not the risk too great ? I believe that for once I am less 
sanguine than you are." 

"July 17th. 

"After many tears, and more fears, I have decided that I 
ought to go to Philadelphia. The committee have been 
here ; they met Doctor Beecher at my house, and he put in 
his oar, and rowed like a good fellow on their side of the 
boat. My brethren in the ministry have all set in, and said 
that such an opening has never before taken place ; that it 
is of immense importance to man that post with one who 
has had some experience, and who can bear to be crowded 
and pushed, without shrinking or sinking under it, and that 
it is most clearly my duty to go. There are at this time no 
less than twenty-three agents in ISTew England, begging for 



LIFE AT NORTHAMPTON. 259 

'the far and the great West.' I most deeply feel that if our 
country is ever saved, and her institutions made permanent, 
New England, under God, must do it. As she must lift and 
labor untiringly for generations to come, it is highly desira- 
ble to have her distinctive character, her institutions, and 
her churches all move South and West, as fast as the provi- 
dence of God shall open the way. After mature reflection, 
I have thought it my duty to go. My people are all weep- 
ing and groaning ; and my dear wife weeping and down- 
spirited, and feeling dreadful because we must go. She 
sees not a ray of light, nor a single thing which is not un- 
desirable, hazardous, and dark. I already feel a burden rest- 
ing upon my shoulders which is truly oppressive. It will 
be a gloomy time for me for several months to come. But 
I try to keep up good spirits." 

"October 6th. 

" My dear Sisters, — For several months past I have been 
in the sorrows of tearing away from a most devoted and af- 
fectionate people, and the place has been a Bochim. I be- 
lieve no minister and no people were ever more happy in 
their connection than we have been, and for a long time it 
seemed to me that I could not make a sacrifice so great. 
To-morrow we set out for Philadelphia, amidst the tears of 
my people and in full grief ourselves. I take my wife, who 
is a universal favorite in this place, four children (the young- 
est a quiet little girl a few weeks old, Sarah Denman by 
name), and two domestics, making eight in the w T hole. I 
have sold my house, without much loss, and have sent on 
our furniture and books — five tons ! They are building me 
a most beautiful church, the largest in the city. My salary 
is two thousand dollars a year ; but when you recollect 
that the rent of a house is five hundred dollars, and other 
expenses proportionate, you will not envy me my salary. I 
even doubt whether it is as good as my salary here. Be 
this as it may, it has had no influence on my decision. I 
have never tried to make or to save money, and I certainly 
have not been successful in doing either. God has hitherto 
given me a comfortable home, and bread to eat, and, further- 
more, I ought not to care, if I may do any thing for him." 

Undoubtedly one of the greatest sacrifices of Mr. Todd's 
life was made when he left Northampton. He had just 



260 JOHN TODD. 

established himself in a delightful house of his own, in one 
of the most beautiful and cultured towns in New England. 
"The whole land could not, probably, present a sweeter 
home than was mine." He was surrounded by a large con- 
gregation of young and active people, worshiping in a new 
and beautiful house, and showing him every possible kind- 
ness, affection, and devotion. He had not yet been with 
them long enough for a single one of those clouds to rise 
which are sure, sooner or later, to throw a more or less tran- 
sient shadow upon every pastorate. In the older parish, in 
spite of some inevitable jealousies, he was hardly less hon- 
ored than in his own ; and in the whole community he en- 
joyed a wide and growing influence and popularity. On 
the other hand, he felt to his home and to his people the 
tenderest attachment. He had watched and prayed and 
wept over the church from its very cradle; many of its 
members were the fruits of his ministry; among this people 
he had spent some of the best years of his manhood, and 
done some of the most important work of his life ; their 
sympathies and affections had brightened his happy home, 
and comforted it in scenes of deep distress. From the midst 
of the toils and turmoils of the great city, and the troubles 
which came upon him there, he often turned back in mem- 
ory to "the green pastures" of Groton and "the still wa- 
ters " of Northampton. 

u O flocks, led by my inexperienced youth, kind to for- 
give my many imperfections, ready to sustain me by your 
confidence and love — O flocks, dear to my memory as the 
apple of my eye, may peace rest upon you, and a light from 
your altars, pure and bright and beautiful, go up and spread 
wide over the sweet hills and valleys which surround you !" 






LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 261 



CHAPTER XIX. 

LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 

A new Sunday-school.— A new Church. — A new Pastor.— Helps.— Hinder- 
ances. — Installation. — Salting a River. — A hitter Minister. — Solemn Meet- 
ings. — Lectures on Sunday-schools. — Paul for a Colleague. — Panic. — Two 
General Assemblies. — No Salary. — A sad Journey. — The morning Cloud. — 
Dedication. — The Spark. — A Howl. — Take it Coolly. — Galvanism. — The 
Dutchman's Horse. — Gathering the Harvest. — Resolving. — Work accom- 
plished. — Sabbath School Teacher in London. — Mustard-seed Souls. — To 
the Editor of the Keepsake. — Life of Scott. — Reminiscences. — Will not be 
Soured. 

The Clinton Street Church began in a Sabbath -school. 
A part of the teachers in the school connected with the 
Fifth Presbyterian Church, conceiving that their efforts were 
not sufficiently appreciated, but rather were opposed by 
some of the older members of that church, became dissatis- 
fied and seceded, and established an independent school. A 
place was found for it in "Union Hall," at the corner of 
Chestnut and Eighth streets, and it was soon comfortably 
fitted up with the requisite benches and desk. The school 
opened with good numbers and every promise of success ; 
and the attendance soon became so large that it was thought 
desirable to have preaching also in the hall from time to 
time, as preachers could be secured ; and it was not long be- 
fore there began to be talk of or^anizino; a new church. 
The quarrel between the Old and the New School parties in 
the Presbyterian Church was at this time just at its height, 
and many minds, weary of dissension, were beginning to long 
for repose. The teachers in the new Sabbath-school, in ad- 
dition to this feeling, had, as they conceived, suffered a spe- 
cial injury at Presbyterian hands. Several of them were of 
New England birth ; and it was natural, therefore, that they 
should look favorably upon the Congregational system, un- 
der which the churches of New England were at that time 
enjoying a peace which was unusual, and which contrasted 
strikingly with the storm that was rending the Presbyterian 
Church asunder. It was determined to organize a Comxre- 



262 JOHN TODD. 

Rational church ; and as the leaders of the movement had 
already begun to look upon Mr. Todd as a man specially 
fitted, by his talents and experience, to conduct it successful- 
ly, he and a few personal friends of his were summoned as a 
council to organize it. The services were held in the even- 
ing of June 7th, 1836, in the Presbyterian church on Arch 
Street, above Tenth, which had kindly been tendered for that 
purpose ; and, in the presence of a large and attentive con- 
gregation, twenty- six persons — thirteen of each sex — were 
constituted the First Congregational Church in Philadelphia. 
Four days later, Mr. Todd was unanimously chosen pastor, 
to his great surprise and against his wishes. He could not 
for some time see that it was his duty to accept the invita- 
tion, and in the end he was influenced more by the iudg- 
ment and wishes of others than by his own. But no sooner 
was his acceptance received than the new movement began 
to be pushed with great vigor. A large building-lot was 
secured at the corner of Clinton and Tenth streets, plans 
were adopted, a subscription-list was opened, and soon filled 
to within ten thousand dollars of the estimated cost, and 
ground was broken, and operations commenced at once. The 
corner-stone was laid on the 18th of August ; and it was 
promised that the rooms in the basement should be ready 
for occupancy before winter. 

There were several things which conspired to make the 
movement a great success. The men who were engaged in 
it were for the most part young and enterprising business 
men, and some of them were wealthy enough, as was sup- 
posed, and as they supposed, to carry the whole load, if nec- 
essary, without assistance. There were many New England 
people in the city to welcome a church such as they had 
been brought up in ; and the Presbyterians recognized the 
propriety of their having such a church, and, so far from 
opposing it, were ready to offer their houses of worship for 
the use of the new church, when occasion demanded. At 
the same time, the dissensions among them led many of them 
to welcome a peaceful refuge. To all this must be added 
the novelty of the thing, the attractiveness of the new edi- 
fice and its appointments, the activity and life of the congre- 
gation, and, not least of all, the popularity and power of the 
new preacher, now at the height of his fame and abilities. 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 263 

On the other hand, there were elements combining to 
bring the new movement to ruin. The church became in- 
evitably, under the circumstances, a kind of Cave of Adul- 
lam, for the gathering of the disaffected and difficult ones 
from all the churches, and was, therefore, in its composition 
heterogeneous and inharmonious. Its origin as a Sabbath- 
school lent it some unfavorable features. It stood apart 
from the influence and sympathy of other churches of the 
same kind, and was in a community, and was composed of 
men, not practically used to Congregationalism. The Pres- 
byterian churches around it, though ready at first to toler- 
ate it, were, naturally, sure to become jealous and fearful of 
it, as it rose in importance and began to draw upon their 
own strength ; and were sure to be none the less, but rather 
much the more, hostile to it for their own hostility among 
themselves, even as a quarrelsome couple unite in falling 
upon an unlucky intruder with all the more unanimity and 
violence for their mutual anger toward each other. And, 
finally, unseen and unexpected by any one, there were now 
rapidly advancing and already near at hand those commer- 
cial tempests of 1837 which were to sweep away and sink 
in their waves all but the very strongest institutions. But 
none of these difficulties appeared at first. The success of 
the new undertaking seemed certain; and passers-by beheld 
with amazement the rapidity with which the walls rose 
where New England had planted her foot. 

"On the evening of November 17th, 1836, the services 
of installation took place in the First Presbyterian Church 
(Rev. Albert Barnes), which was kindly and generously 
placed at our service, in the presence of a large and intelli- 
gent audience. The sermon was by Rev. John Brown, D.D., 
of Hadley, Massachusetts. After the installation of the pas- 
tor, the church continued to worship, as before, in Union 
Hall, the congregation and the Sabbath -school steadily in- 
creasing, till April 2d, 1837, when they removed to the base- 
ment story of the new house of worship, seven months after 
the corner-stone was laid. At this time there were about 
one hundred children in the Sabbath-school." 

" December 27th, 1836. 

"I sometimes think there is an increasing degree of spir- 
ituality and of solemnity — full meetings, solemn and still; 



264 JOHN TODD. 

but in a city it is so difficult to have impressions abide. 
The same seriousness and attention in the country would 
have produced a revival ; but not so here. You cast the 
salt into the water, and soon see that you are trying to salt 
a river; it all runs away at once. What shall a minister 
do to save sinners ? is the greatest question that ever came 
before my mind. How to answer it, or what to say, I know 
not; but still I go on, laboring and hoping. Why did they 
have such powerful revivals in the days of Edwards and 
Bellamy ? Was it owing to the men, or to the counsels of 
God ? Next Sabbath we have our communion ; seventeen 
added to our church, coming from the four quarters of the 
earth. The roof of the church is nearly covered. It will 
be a most noble and beautiful building. I should feel 
proud of it, did I not daily, hourly, and almost momently 
think how little I am doing to fit worshipers for the spir- 
itual and glorious Temple above. When I think of my 
opportunities, and my doings, and the results of my labors, I 
am astonished and ashamed." 

" January 31st, 1837. 

"Mr. ! Do you remember how I asked him to give 

me the 'right hand' — how he groaned in spirit over Phila- 
delphia and Presbyterianism — how his soul yearned in be- 
half of true Congregationalism? Well, he has come to the 

Presbyterian Church, and when installed did not even 

ask me into the pulpit, though I dismissed my congregation 
(Sabbath evening), and went with my people; and there is 
not a church or a minister in the city so bitter against us as 
they are. Poor human nature ! Such things do not trouble 
me in the least. I am hardened to all such treatment, and 
expect it as a matter of course, and care no more about it 
than if the wind changed — suppose I am too proud to care. 

" Our meetings are full, crowded, still, solemn as the 
grave; and several have lately, as we hope and trust, 
passed from death unto life. Some of the most interesting 
conversions I ever saw have taken place. They appear ex- 
ceedingly well, though the manner in which the Spirit led 
them is as different from my former experience as city hab- 
its are different from those in the country." 

''February 20th. 

"My room will not hold my hearers. I am at work hard 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 265 

upon some lectures on Sabbath-schools" (afterward published 
under the title "Sabbath School Teacher"); "each is over 
one hour long. They seem to attract great attention. The 
ministers stand off, and I care not a pin for it. I should say 
that my prospects for usefulness were never so good, and 
growing better every day. My church is in more danger of 
being ruined by wealth and fashion and splendor than any 
thing else. It is amazing hard work to keep piety alive in 
this world. In the country they sleep it to death ; in the 
city they kill it by ice-creams and silks. I do wish I had 
Paul here for a colleague two or three years, that I might 
know what to do and what to say. I know I have not 
flinched as yet in my teaching and preaching." 

"March 24th. 

" It is an awful time here with our business-men. Our 
merchants are in a panic, and failing. You can not con- 
ceive the distress which such a state of things produces. It 
is a matter of public prayer in all the churches. We hope 
it will be better soon." 

"April 25th. 

" I never had a conception of what was meant by com- 
mercial distress before the present time. There is no confi- 
dence in men. Those who are worth, could they collect it, 
hundreds of thousands of dollars, are breaking and crum- 
bling all in pieces. None of my people have as yet gone by 
the board, though I should not be surprised if they all should. 
It is no matter of surprise to hear that -the heaviest, wealth- 
iest, oldest, and most noble houses in the land have been 
crushed. The worst of it is, the storm seems to thicken, and 
no end is yet seen to it. No class of men, no individual, is 
unaffected, or escapes loss and suffering, more or less. I 
tremble at times for my church, but trust its foundations rest 
on eternal Love, and that earthly storms will not rock it." 

" May 30th. 

" The General Assembly are in session, full of quarreling, 
and wrath, and strife on both sides. The probability is 
now that they will divide and have two General Assemblies, 
rending through the middle. I have attended the meetings 
some, have become indescribably disgusted, and am thankful 
that I do not serve under their banners. 

" We receive no salary ; but on this subject I am never 



266 JOHN TODD. 

low-spirited. I work too hard to starve ; and as to the rest, 
God will direct. My children can not be poorer than I was ; 
they will not work harder than I have done ; and need not 
be more prospered to be happy." 

From Mrs. Todd. 

"September. 

" We have had most melancholy intelligence from Mr. 
Todd's oldest brother, William. He left the Black River 
country a few weeks since for Illinois; and after having 
traveled twenty-eight days, all their children (three in num- 
ber) were taken sick with dysentery, and died in the course 
of one week." 

From Mr. Todd. 

"My dear William, — The letter in which you described 
your afflictions and losses cost me many tears. I gave you 
all I could give you, my sympathy, my pity, and my prayers. 
It was indeed a most severe cup which you were called to 
drink; and I pray God that you may see the hand which 
smote, and be enabled to kiss the rod. You and your wife 
will indeed be lonely, and be pilgrims now ; but may I not 
hope that, since God has taken your treasures to heaven, 
there your hearts may be also? The world will indeed look 
sad to you ; but you must look up to that brighter one above, 
where sorrow and sin and death shall be unknown. The great 
source of consolation is, that ' the Lord God omnipotent reign- 
eth.' His will is holy, his doings wise, his plans glorious." 

" September 25th. 

"My congregation is as great as can possibly be accom- 
modated as we now are; and the probability is, that, when 
we get into our new church, we shall have a congregation 
as large as I or any other man can take care of. We are 
most abundantly prospered. There is so much solemnity in 
my congregation, that if we were in the country I should 
say we were about to have a revival; but here all is Mike 
the morning cloud, and the early dew, which goeth away.' 

" Thursday, the 9th of November, was spent as a day of 
fasting and prayer, preparatory to the dedication of the 
new church. The house was solemnly dedicated to Al- 
mighty God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, on the evening 
of November 11th." It was a rainy evening, but the house 
was densely packed. 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 267 

The sermon which was preached at the dedication by the 
pastor, and which was soon afterward published, was on the 
"Principles and Results of Congregationalism." It was 
written in no unkind or party spirit, and could not properly 
be regarded as an attack upon any other denomination. It 
was a simple comparison of Congregationalism with other 
church systems, in the light of historical facts which could 
not be denied. That with respect to it which was fairly 
open to question was merely, the expediency of preaching it 
just at that time and under the existing circumstances. 
The leading denominations in the city had seen this strange 
vine planted among them with comparative indifference; 
but as they watched its rapid growth, and saw it in a single 
.year taking a position abreast of the first churches in the 
city, their' composure gave place to feelings of uneasiness 
and dislike, which increased till but a spark was needed to 
produce a general explosion. The opening of this splendid 
house wrought these feelings to the highest pitch, and the 
dedication-sermon was the spark. Upon its production one 
universal howl of rage went up from Presbyterians, Episco- 
palians, and Unitarians alike. "I have seen nearly twenty 
notices of my dedication-sermon, and nearly all fly right at my 
face." From this time the dislike of the other churches be- 
came more undisguised, and the path of the Congregational 
Church and its pastor became a more thorny one to tread. 

" December 10th. 

" If people see that they can nettle the minister, it at once 
gives them power and importance, which they are sure to 
exercise. The world will have weak women and stubborn 
men in it, at present ; and I am afraid that it will still have 
fools in it, though you and I teach the world better. So we 
must take it as we find it, and take it coolly. I have enough 
every week to throw me into the scarlet fever, if I did not 
stand still, and let Folly kick up her heels till she is tired, 
and then goes to be sick of a cold caught by the exercise. 
I have cares and anxieties, and constant demands, which 
make me haggard; and yet I am as well off as a city minis- 
ter can be. God gives us, and. all, their portion in due sea- 
son. Let us not be weary in well-doing." 

"March 1st. 

"We have, for the most part, been well, and are still so, 



268 JOHN TODD. 

by the blessing of God. The two eldest children, Mary and 
Martha, are at school, murdering Latin, and finding things in 
geography which Columbus himself would never have been 
able to discover. John - E. reads and spells to his mother, 
runs over to the study, sings loud, preaches often, and bap- 
tizes multitudes of children. Sarah is full of life, frolic, and 
mischief, and has her mouth half full of teeth, some of which 
are those wonderful executioners commonly called double- 
teeth. We have been laboring for a revival, but to no pur- 
pose. We visited all the members of the church; we held 
prayer-meetings all over the city, six each evening ; we had 
a day of fasting and prayer; but — did you never hear of gal- 
vanism ? They can take it, and by it make a corpse laugh, 
and weep, and even jump upon his feet; but after ail it is a 
corpse still ; there is no life in it. So it has been with us. 
The Spirit of God has not been given. Sometimes I feel dis- 
couraged, and wish I had the ' wings of a dove,' with which 
to riy away. More, too: I feel sometimes as if I must drop 
all, and stop preaching forever. I know that we do not pray 
enough ; but why we don't I do not know." 

" March 8th. 

" I have been hard at work, though to no very great pur- 
pose any way, since I wrote you. The fact is — there are two 
facts about it, both of which trouble me not a little. First, 
I have no time in which to do any thing ; and, secondly, I 
have no courage to do it, had I time. Like the Dutchman's 
horse, I am hard to catch, and good for nothing when caught. 
I wish I could live by three hours' sleep, and have vigor to 
give all the rest of the time to mental efforts; but, alas for 
me ! I have not much wide-awake about me, and what little 
of the ' everlasting go forward ' I once had is about all run 
out. Did you ever feel young — I mean so that you could 
run a mile across lots and jump over every fence you met ? 
Ah, those days ! when your lungs were young, and you could 
halloo; and your feet young, and you could jump; and your 
limbs all young, and you could bound! Oh, the hills over 
which I shouted and leaped in boyhood's green hours ! 

Could these hours return but for one day ! Ask W if he 

ever saw such days." 

"March 9th. 

"You surely have a revival, and a delightful one too. I 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 209 

hope that your hopes may all, and more than all, be realized. 
I hope, too, that you will not call in much foreign help. As 
far as possible, do the work of gathering in the harvest your- 
self. It is no more evidence of the approbation of God, as I 
know of, to be permitted to gather than it is to sow the seed. 
Yet it is more delightful to our unbelieving hearts ; and our 
people are apt to have their confidence in their minister great- 
ly increased if they see that he can gather in the harvest as 
well as sow. So far as my own experience goes, it is well 
to bring the awakened sinner at once to the bar of God, and 
make him see how he looks in his sight. The difficulty is, 
that they mistake impression for conviction. It is a rock on 
which multitudes split. 

"To tell the truth, I am placed in new circumstances. 
Human nature does not seem to be the same thing here that 
it is in New England. Such a thing as real, deep conviction 
for sin I seldom find. Professors, in talking, praying, speak- 
ing in meeting, do not seem to feel that this is of any impor- 
tance. If they will only ' resolve] and ' make up their mind,' 
and all that, they feel that this is religion. I can not find as 
it has ever been the case that people here, in general, have 
had any conviction of sin previous to professing religion. 
And yet they appear well, and perhaps give as much evi- 
dence, taking the year in and out, that they are converted, 
as those in New England who are taught by law. What 
shall we think of all this? I confess I am at times at a dead 
loss what to think. That there is, comparatively speaking, 
no stability in such Christians is plain ; but I do not know 
but they are as stable in religion as in any thing about which 
they are no better informed. 

" Our Sabbath-school numbers four hundred, teachers and 
pupils. The House of Refuge (one hundred and fifty bad 
boys), a Sabbath-school at Hamilton village, the Alms-house 
(two thousand now in it), and twelve hundred inhabitants 
supplied monthly with tracts — all done by members of my 
church. My two theological students preach, in their way, 
at the Alms-house. We keep up eight or ten weekly meet- 
ings in the lanes and alleys of the city. So we are not ab- 
solutely idle. 

" I see that ray ' Sabbath School Teacher' is reviewed in at 
least three monthly periodicals in London. They are in ec- 

18 



270 JOHN TODD. 

stasies. You would smile to see how the Londoners puff 
what was written in my study in eighty-two days last win- 
ter. It seems certain, however, that the poor thing, fearful 
as you seemed to be about it, will revolutionize the whole 
system of Sabbath-schools in Europe. For good, or for evil, 
it will have a greater influence than any one thing I have 
ever done. 

"Why need people be so niggardly? If the possession 
of property shuts up the heart, I rejoice that I never possess- 
ed it, and pray God that he will never let me have any. I 
have no sympathy with stinginess, and am thankful that I 
have never had to deal with mustard-seed souls." 

"March 12th. 
"Jiev. John A. Clark, now in London: 

"My dear Sir, — Your good niece tells my good wife to 
tell me that if I write you a line, she can send it. Your 
'dear five hundred,' and more too, have been following you, 
and looking after you, and sending sighs, and good wishes, 
and tears. But your letters will tell you all this ; for if you 
are honest, you will tell me that you read my letter after 
all the rest. Now is it not so ? As to your family, they 
will tell you all about them. They have been, and are, 
blessed, and you could not keep them any safer than your 
house has been kept. Your congregation are sticking to- 
gether like bees who are afraid to go out even in fair weath- 
er when the queen-bee is away. Even with all my popular- 
ity, I have not been able to steal a single sheep ! But, then, 
you know that your great c canons' shut such heretics as I 
am out of your pulpit, and that gives me no chance. Don't 
you see that? Oh, how I do envy you, going and seeing, 
and seeing and going, looking in the very mouth of every 
lion, and, if you choose, pinching the tail of every monkey, 
seeing great folks and little folks, applying all the rules of 
phrenology, and filling your mind with a world of half-form- 
ed impressions and shadows of images ! What would I not 
give to be near you, and, like a good pump, sucking all I 
could out of you, and, like the said pump, proudly spouting 
it out as if my own ! But some birds are eagles, and they 
fly as a matter of course ; while some are geese, who are priv- 
ileged to twaddle and quack. I am like the latter — pro- 
vided, moreover, the feet of the said bipeds be frost-bitten. 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 271 

Well, see all you can ; stare ' right at ' every thing ; and then 
come and tell us all about every thing. I envy you even 
three thousand miles off. As to the ' Keepsake,' we have 
swept the net round a great way, and, as I think, shall gath- 
er in fish both good and bad. We shall have matter enough, 
but some of it, unless they begin to print soon, will hardly 
keep. Some of it is like the old-fashioned New England 
pig-walnuts — very large, much * shuck,' hard to crack, and 
very little meat in the nut. I shall do the best I can, and 
you will have the credit of it. I hope you will write the 
preface, and something which you see, ' et de omnibus rebus 
et quibusdam aliis.' I would not be in a hurry to get home, 
because I should want to recover my health, and because 
you will not be able to go to Europe again this season. 
Among your many handsome letters which now reach you, 
few will come from those who are more sincere than my 
poor self when I say, God bless you most abundantly with 
every blessing, and fill you with joy in him." 

" March 17th. 
"Have you read Lockhart's Life of Scott? If you have 
not, I want you should. You will be absolutely amazed 
that a man with so little learning, and what he had resting 
on so poor a foundation, could have produced such a sensa- 
tion among his species. He seems like a huge, splendid cas- 
tle resting upon a cob-house for its foundation. Read him, 
and learn what ' unaffected amazement ' means." 

To a former Parishioner. 

"March 26th. 
"My dear Friend, — For some days before Mr. B- 



came, I kept saying to myself, ' Surely W will write a 

few lines;' but he came, and your letter did not. Don't you 
suppose there was ever a pretty girl who gave her lover the 
go-by, and thought she was losing nothing; but who, in aft- 
er years, thought to herself that she did a silly thing, and 
wished she had the ground to go over again ? I do not aver 
that this ever was so, but I do suspect it. Well, what then ? 
The moral is, if you and I let our friendship die away through 
sheer neglect, will not the time come when we shall wish we 
had been wiser? I have throw r n away too many most valu- 
able friends, simply by neglecting them when circumstances 
separated us. Should I live to have the almond-blossoms 



272 ' JOHN TODD. 

on my head, I shall regret it. It gives me great pleasure, 
in reviewing the past, to know that in the intercourse which 
you and I have been permitted to enjoy, there never was 
any thing to mar our pleasures, or to give a sting to the 
memory of the past. My foolish pen can not tell how much 
I have loved you, nor how much I have enjoyed in your so- 
ciety. If I could noio enjoy it again, I should know how to 
cause our intercourse to be more useful to both of us. Do 
you grow old any in feeling ? Do you know it is almost 
two years since I began to be taken away from your socie- 
ty? Shall we meet next summer? Shall we have a week, 
or a fortnight, of solitude, where we can hide and be out of 
sight? Is the romance of life all used up with you? I be- 
gin to find myself a strange compound of selfishness and 
generosity, ambition, and indifference to men's opinions, a 
timid hare, and yet a dread naught; in short, such a fellow 
as you never saw before. Yet I like you, and I wish I were 
near you, and could keep near you. To return to ' the said 
girl,' as you lawyers say, does she not sometimes, just at 
dusk, when weary, hang over the window and say to her- 
self, ' Why doesn't he come?' Even so I have been saying 
about you, l Why doesn't he come and see us?' I have been 
saying so for more than a year. When loill you come ? Is 
it spring with you ? Do the birds sing, or the frogs peep ? 
Here, nor spring nor summer, fall nor winter, comes to us. 
The wheels rattle over pavements; the sweeps, and the fish- 
carts, and the oyster-carts bawl (not the carts, though, but 
creatures about as stupid), and this is our variety. I have 
been almost the whole winter sick. One more such winter 
will, I fear, finish off my preaching — sore throat, sore throat ! 
and Mrs. Todd, I fear, will never enjoy health here. Love 
to your family, and to all inquiring friends." 

"March 29th. 
My congregations are very large, attentive, apparently sol- 
emn ; but, alas ! there is nothing permanent in the impres- 
sions which they receive. But God has dealt with us in 
great mercy in the past, and for the future we must trust 
him. I have taken no notice of the severe things said about 
my dedication sermon. Years ago I made up my mind not 
to be soured by any thing which might be said against me, 
and I have never regretted this resolution." 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 21 3 



CHAPTER XX. 

LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA Continued. 

The old Gun. — Annealed Wire. — The Dinner-set. — Measles. —A new House. 
—To Miss Beeeher.— The Clam split open.— The Maple Molasses.— Lungs 
of Leather. — Cholera Infantum. — Dispatch. — Anguish of Spirit.— Robert 
Hall.— Bowditch.— The plucked Rose.— The still, small Voice.— Nesting 
out of the Pulpit. — Not Paid. — A young Ladies' School. — A Boys' School. 
— A daily Newspaper. — To Mrs. Palmer. — Congregationalism. — Preaching 
Sovereignty. — Trials of building a new Church. — Swine and the Water. — 
Genius.— Boys' Education.— Sighs for New England. 

To & a B . 

"April 9th, 1838. 

"My brain is much like the pan of an old gun which I 
used to tug round in my boyhood — so leaky, that when I 
attempted to get her off the priming was sure to be gone. 
When I have thought of writing to you, I always seemed to 
be full, too full ; but now I scratch my head in vain to find a 
single idea suitable to so important an occasion. I am de- 
lighted with your discussions in the theological chamber, 
and not a little astonished that the walls of the citadel 
should so soon shake. Not that I would insinuate that your 
battering-ram is not of the first power; but still, I had sup- 
posed the walls were built of chains instead of stones, and 
that while you could easily make them clink and rattle, it 
would not be so easy to overthrow them. So far as accu- 
racy of thought and of definition (a very diificult thing for 
an undisciplined mind), and clearness and distinctness of 
conception, are concerned, the discussion will be useful to 
you. As to the effect upon the moral feelings, I should 
think it about as good as chewing annealed wire for food 
for the body. But 'have at them.' You have them on the 
right ground; and if the jackdaw will strut in the feathers 
of the peacock, he must not complain that he is called a jack- 
daw after the borrowed feathers are plucked off." 

"April 13th. 

"Now and then I put my phiz into a bookstore; but men 
of that stamp dare not import a single book, even if you ad- 



274 JOHN TODD. 

vance the money : they think the qcean will shortly cease 
to bear up ships, and that our Government can reverse the 
very laws of nature if they please. Qur ' Nic ' [N icholas 
Biddle] says we are to have no specie at present, and the 
very boys who get married pay their wedding fees in a de- 
preciated currency. They have been giving 'Nic' a dinner- 
set of silver, said to have cost twenty thousand dollars. It 
is superb, of course ; but what icould the world say if such 
an offering should be made to any other priest, equal to that 
which they thus make to this great high-priest to Mammon !" 

"April 24th. 
" We have been sick, sick, sick. John was seized with 
the croup, about three weeks ago, accompanied with a high 
fever. He is now just getting out of his room; and if he 
does not take more cold in this doleful weather, we trust he 
will shortly be well. Then Sarah was taken sick, and went, 
through a siege of medicine. And then Joab, who is still 
on the sick-list, and looks bad enough for any two dead 
men." [The poor lame boy, who spent a year in Mr. Todd's 
family in Groton, had taken the valedictory at Yale in 1837, 
and from that time made Mr. Todd's house his home.] 
" You hear the rattling of vials and spoons, and see the 
ranges of pill-boxes, and you would think we were indeed a 
hospital. J and S do our singing on ordinary oc- 
casions; and while we can hardly raise sound enough to get 
through a prayer-meeting, we propose to give an oratorio 
which will electrify the city. We are compelled to move 
out of our house ; and what will surprise you is, that, char- 
acteristic of my rashness, I have bought a new house. It is 
the first house in Clinton Street east of Tenth — just finished, 
and now being fitted for our occupancy. It is, as I believe, 
most thoroughly, and, as I k?ioto, most beautifully, built. Is 
it not a bold undertaking to try to shoulder a debt of eight 
thousand dollars ? It does not worry me in the least, nor 
will it. No change is or can be great here ; none can come 
unexpected ; nothing surprises us ; there is nothing new. 
Solomon must have lived in a city when he preached so elo- 
quently, and in the country when he compared his beloved 
one's nose to^Mount Carmel. Most of our earthly joys are 
in expectation, and we find it much easier to sell the skin 
than to hunt the bear." 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 275 

"April 26th. 
u 3fiss Catharine E. Beecher, Walnut Hills, Ohio : 

"Dear Miss B., — Yours of the 9th reached me in due sea- 
son, but your manuscripts did not get to me till this blessed 
day. Harriet ought to thank her stars, or somebody else, 
that she did not live in the days when they hung witches. 
She surely would have been hung. Three babies in two 
years ! and yet write a volume before breakfast ! She is a 
strange one ! I always did like her, i. e., ever since I knew 
her, and at those seasons when I could get her to talk, and 
am determined to like her pieces, though, according to your 
request, I do not stop to read them before I answer your 
note and tell you they are safe. They are in season, and 
though I have enough for two volumes at least, yet much 
of it will hardly keep through the hot weather. You can 
hardly conceive what mawkish stuff can be written, if one 
has a gift that way; and yet some of this was promised to 
be inserted, by Mr. Clark, before he left the country. I 
charitably hope he made the promise when the docket was 
low. I feel disappointed in not having something from 
your pen. I will ' keep the polls open,' as they say at elec- 
tions, to the last moment possible, waiting for your c tale,' 
and 'poetry' to be measured by the yard! Just recollect 
that when we buy by the yard, we get the best quality off 
the first end of the piece. If I can not keep a place for you, 
I shall be more sorry than you will. When I think of the 
amazing ease with which ink flows from your pen, and how 
well it reads, I often think, What ails her? why doesnH 
she write more ? I have read Professor Stowe's report with 
admiration. It is noble, and will do immense good in this 
country. In looking over ' auld lang syne,' I find I have 
corresponded with him, but never, as I recollect, seen him. 
I hope I can not say this many years longer. Your father's 
lectures ! w r onderful man ! lie keeps on the wing untired, 
and goes up higher, and sees wider and wider into the ways 
that are everlasting, as he grows older. His eye was never 
keener, his flight never more lofty, his strong powers never 
more gigantic, than at this moment. ' O mihi tarn longa3 
maneat pars ultima vitse !' " 

" May 15th. 

"This buying a house, and fitting it up, drain a poor 



276 JOHN TODD. 

man's purse. But we have a good and a beautiful home. 
If we may enjoy health and do good, other things are of 
small consequence. I have enough to do, and far too much. 
My congregation seems to be wonderfully growing in repu- 
tation and popularity in the city; but this I attribute to my 
beauty. Now, is not this insufferable, to talk so much about 
ourselves? But do remember that we have not a cat, nor a 
hen, nor even a peacock, else to talk about, and what shall 
we do?" 

"May 29th. 
" Joab had a siege with the measles. For a long time no- 
body could tell what ailed him. The first day he was able 
to be out, and the very day before John and Sarah were 
taken, we moved — or, rather, we tumbled along the street, 
out of one house into another. Such a world of furniture 
and trumpery ! Where it came from, and of what possible 
use it could be, was more than I could tell. But we had it, 
and must move it, and move it we did. We are now in the 
house, and it is a most beautiful and convenient one, very 
far exceeding any thing we ever had before. I hope we 
shall be thankful for it. We have had a world of company, 
from the four quarters of the earth, and are in no danger of 
being delivered. For about ten weeks we have had severe 
sickness, and during that time never had a good night's 
rest. We have here two General Assemblies of the Presby- 
terians. Both claim to be the real Assembly ; and it is amus- 
ing to see a farce so solemn, and in many respects so poorly 
played. I laugh at them, and tell them that they are now 
like a clam which is split open, and are quarreling to see 
which is the upper shell, when the meat is gone out of both." 

To J. H. B . 

"June 13th. 
"I have, as usual, many kindnesses to acknowledge from 
you, such as a little barrel of maple molasses, the draft for 
one hundred dollars, etc., all of which came in due season, 
and for all of which I return you special thanks. I hope 
that whoever has the honor to write my biography will not 
forget to commemorate the kindness of thee, mine publisher. 
The molasses has been a great affair with us, comprehending 
in itself, and therefore a substitute for, almost every thing. 
i Mrs. Todd, have you no preserves for tea ?' ' Oh, you see 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 277 

the molasses.' ' You have forgotten to set on the cake, Mrs. 
Todd.' 'No, but the molasses is a substitute.' 'But we 
have no smoked beef, or cheese, on the table.' She points 
to the molasses. So it is like the Irishman's shirt, 'victuals 
and drink, and pretty good clothing.' 

"E. H is making a, first-rate singer! a voice that Her- 
cules might covet ! I tell him he may sell his lungs for 
leather, at a great price, after he has done with them." 

"June 30th. 

" Within a few days past, little Sarah has been quite ill. 
If she gets no better within a day or two, I shall try to get 
the family off to you on next Tuesday morning, for if the 
summer complaint be once fixed upon a child here, it is cer- 
tain death. Joab will accompany them, as I must not leave 
at present." 

The little one grew worse so fast that the departure was 
hastened, and Mr. Todd accompanied the family. On the 
way it seemed impossible for the child to live from hour to 
hour. She was so weak that her father carried her on a pil- 
low, and in the crowds held the pillow up above the peo- 
ple's heads, lest she should lose her breath forever. In New 
York, " When my whole family were shut up in a stage at 
the steamboat-landing, at the end of the wharf, the horses 
began to back the carriage ; and had they gone six inches 
farther, they w r ould all have been precipitated in the deep 
waters, and undoubtedly have found a watery death." In 
the air of New England the sick child at once revived, and 
her father hastened back to the city for a few days longer. 

" October 11 th. 
"It is absolutely impossible for any one wh'o does not 
live in a great city to conceive of the multitude of things 
which cut up all our time, weary the spirits, exhaust the 
mind, and corrode the heart. I accidentally cast my eye on 
an old letter, written many years ago by Doctor Porter, of 
Andover, in which he is kind enough to say that they ' never 
had a man of Mr. Todd's age who, in a given time, could 
do so much, and do it so well.' This is too high praise; 
but if I have any one gift peculiarly my own, it is dispatch. 
But even that avails nothing here. I never lie down with- 
out having conscience reproach me for not having done at 
least four times what I have done; and I never rise in the 



278 JOHN TODD. 

morning without feeling that I can not do what I must 
during the day. 

" There is nothing interesting among my people, except- 
ing an indescribable anguish of spirit which I have felt for 
them for some weeks past. I write my sermons and preach 
as pointedly, as plainly, and as solemnly as I know how ; the 
congregation is full, very large, and very attentive, and ap- 
parently solemn ; but there is nothing that abides ; in a few 
hours it is all gone. I am now laying my plans to make a 
great effort to improve the spirituality of my church. If 
these plans fail, it now seems as if my heart would also fail. 
A few days since was my birthday. I solemnly dedicated 
all that I have anew to God, and consecrated the remainder 
of my life to him. I have prayed for this flock, now a great 
flock, and every week increasingly so. My people feel that 
I am to fill the church with people, pay for it all at once, 
support the concern itself: this is the first and great work; 
and, subsidiary to this, I am to carry them to heaven, while 
they live entirely to the world, and am to convert the con- 
gregation also. To do their part of this immense work, they 
are jealous of each other, afraid that one or another will have 
too much notice, or they too little, and then they wonder why 
the minister does not accomplish more. It is a dreadfully 
hard field in which to do good. If it were allowable to 
preach pretty and fashionable sermons, to eat and to drink 
good things, and not to deal with the sins of men, I could 
get along and do well. But my desire and aim and stand- 
ard is, to see ray church become spiritual, and my congre- 
gation savingly converted. This must be done, or I shall 
sink under my labors. Do not fail to let us have your 
prayers. We have not a single leaf in the mulberry-tree 
that shakes, and not the least breath from the Spirit of God. 
I think that I desire one thing above all others, and that is, 
that I and mine may be holy. 

"I have had the luxury of reading a few hours to-day, 
under a sick headache. I have re-read the life of Robert 
Hall. I felt that I envied him, and wished that I could 
preach like him, till I came to John Foster's wonderful dis- 
section of him as a preacher, and then all my envy was 
gone. He is immeasurably distant from being a model for 
the ministry. If all could and did preach just as he did, it 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 279 

seems to me the day of the world's conversion would be 
distant. 

"Many thanks for a copy of 'Eulogy upon Bowditch.' A 
wonderful man ! Very few sons of a poor cooper could rise 
by their unaided genius and industry to accomplish what 
he accomplished. I sat down at once, and read his memoir 
with astonishment, and with sorrow too, to think that a mind 
so gigantic, clear, and discriminating should pass through 
life and go into the eternal world giving so small evidence 
of knowing Jesus Christ, ' whom to know is life eternal.' I 
should hope that his eulogists have left out something, and 
that such a noble spirit has not gone to the presence of God 
clothed in the poor garments of its own righteousness." 

" October 19th. 

"Poor H ! poor orphans! seven of them ! Nothing 

for a long time has affected us like the death of this lovely 
woman, and this warm, constant, and sincere friend of ours. 
Her sun set suddenly, but in glory. The earth can show 
but few like her. I love to dwell upon her sweet image, 
which will never fade from my mind and heart; and to 
thank God that, among all his mercies to me and mine, he 
has permitted us to know and enjoy such a friend. I can 
not yet realize that the blow is struck, and the rose has been 
plucked from the sweet buds which clustered around it, and 
is now withered and gone. No, it is not dead. The hand 
of Love has carefully shaken the dust from it, and trans- 
planted it into a world where the wind shall not shake it, 
where the storm shall not bruise it, where the dust of earth 
shall not defile it. The spirits of .but few, as I believe, ever 
went more directly up, or were at once admitted nearer to 
that blessed One, whose prayer, 'Father, I will that they 
also, whom thou hast given me be with me where I am,' has 
now been so unexpectedly and mysteriously answered." 

To a Parishioner at the West. 

" November 13th. 
" In that land where all goes by impetus, and all is mov- 
ing, do not forget to ask for that 'still, small voice,' which 
is not heard in the crowd, which can not be heard except 
when the heart is withdrawn from the world, and which is 
always given for the asking. Ask for yourself, and for me, 
and for this church." 



280 JOHN TODD. 

" November 28th. 

"To-morrow we are to have a day of Thanksgiving in our 
church, to keep time with our father-land, New England. 
We are determined to bring New England this way as fast 
as we can. The Lord only can aid us to do it in reality. 
The proposal in my church took well, and I encourage every 
thing that tends to give the New England stamp to my 
church. As to our situation, I can hardly say what it is. 
My church is coming up in influence and character, and in 
the confidence of the community ; and I suppose I am, indi- 
vidually, more known in the city at the present time than 
ever before. But I have my trials, and they are neither few 
nor small. Our congregation is large and very attentive ; 
but there is no breath in this valley of dry bones, and I 
seem to beat the air. I work as hard as I can, and 'it prof? 
iteth nothing.' But results are not in our hands, and we 
ought to rejoice that they are not. Ministers come into my 
church and into my study, and envy me my situation ; but 
they little know with what heaviness of heart I engage in 
my duties. I am trying to write a lecture for the Athenian 
Institute, but I have no heart for it, and it must be a failure. 
They will not allow me to introduce the subject of religion, 
and I am out of my element if you take me out of the pul- 
pit." 

To an absent Parishioner. 

"January 6th, 1839. 

"A private word in your ear. If you ever go away again, 
I must go with you, or starve. My good people have not 
paid me a cent since you went away, and only nine hundred 
and fifty dollars in more than a year. I have been sorely 
pinched and perplexed ; but I have not said a word, nor 
shall I, and I beg you will not, before your return. They 
may do better before that time. The congregation was 
never so large before ; but there is no energy — no moving, 
active spirit. I believe I never stood better in their estima- 
tion, and I am sorry that I can not live on their esteem. I 
am invited everywhere to preach, but shall not go away 
from home at present." 

"January 22d. . 

" I am trying to get up a young ladies' school con- 
nected with my congregation. Miss G , formerly in 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 281 

Miss Dwight's school in Northampton, has been at ray house 
six or eight weeks. I do not know as I can carry out my 
plans. If I do, it will cost me something personally; but I 
am anxious to have it done, and if it can be, it shall be. She 
commences her school on Wednesday next, under very good 
auspices." [The school was successfully established, and 
continued for a number of years, a school of a high order.] 
" Joab begins the same day. I will tell you how I went 
to work to accomplish an object. I wanted to get him a 
school here. He came, and I selected thirty or forty of my 
friends, to each of whom he sent a polite note, stating that 
he was going to open a school. To this note I appended a 
note of my own, stating his character, scholarship, etc. He 
commenced with two or three scholars. His prospects are 
fine, and I think he will shortly have at least a thousand 
dollars income. I have charged him nothing, except to have 
little John go over half an hour each half day and read a 
little lesson. I love to give my friends a lift as I can, and 
all I ask is, that when I get in the mire they will not forget 
me." [Mr. Brace, soon after this, had all the pupils that 
he wished, and his school continued in successful operation 
for some years after he, with Mr. Todd, had left the city.] 
" When Collins " [Mrs. Todd's eldest brother] " came, I took 
unwearied pains to introduce him to gentlemen of the first 
standing here, both by personal interviews and by letter. 
The result will be, I think, what I want, and have wanted. 
I think they will get up a new daily paper here, and make 
him the editor. They have not decided, but have gone so 
far as to have several meetings, and C. has drawn up a pro- 
spectus. I think it will go." [The North American was 
soon afterward established on this basis, and still continues, 
united with the United States Gazette, one of the leading 
journals in Philadelphia.] " I sometimes feel like sitting 
down and having a hearty cry ; for I seem to have the fac- 
ulty and the opportunity to help others, but no faculty to 
help myself. 

" Deacon is in Europe. The last year he was scold- 
ing because I wrote books. He now writes from France 
that he receives great kindnesses and attentions because he 
belongs to a Mr. Todd's church — Mr. Todd being extensive- 
ly known there by certain books which he wrote. So the 



282 JOHN TODD. 

world goes. I wish I had pluck enough to write some 
more." 

To Mrs. Doctor Palmer, formerly of Charleston. 

"January 28th. 

" I have been hard at work, with little or no good result- 
ing. What hard work to convert the human heart ! I 
wish some of those new divinity folks who allow God only 
to permit, while they decree, would come here and convert 
some of my hearers. It is more than Zcan do. 

"We have had some sickness, and I have had the dyspep- 
sia — the only fashionable, genteel thing I ever had — and 
have stood still with both hands full. Yet I have found 
time to follow you in your dismal journey, your stages, your 
low river, and your new entrance into the Far West. I 
have felt very sorry for you; for I have too often been upon 
wheels, with all I had in the world on wheels with me, among 
strangers, and with a short purse, not to know how badly off 
we may be, and not to pity you. But I was glad that you 
could live it through, and from your last I gather that the 
good doctor is catching the spirit and enterprise of the 
West, and is again taking off his coat to go to work. I 
hope he may find the fountains of life replenished, and that 
he still has the arm to nerve a strong bow, and to send many 
arrows, with great effect. I suppose that you will not al- 
ways find there that Art has reared her temple on the dry 
hill of Zion, lighted with silver lamps and sweet-smelling 
oil ; but you will find enough to do ; and I pray that you 
may live long to do much of it, and have grace to do it thor- 
oughly." 

' " February 14th. 

"I am poor, and always shall be: I have met with some 
losses by dishonest folks ; but I thank God that I never yet. 
refused to aid a fellow-man, be he who he might, if I had 
any evidence that he deserved it, and. if it was in my power 
to do it ; nor do I ever intend to." 

To Rev. S. G . 

"February 15th. 
"All Congregationalists profess to love Congregational- 
ism, and yet you could get them to yield no sympathy for 
Congregationalism ; but show them a weak, devoted feeble 
Congregational church, organized and struo-crlino; for exist- 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 283 

ence, and you excite their sympathy. The system is differ- 
ent from any other. Men will join (and fight for, too) Epis- 
copacy or Presbyterianism or Methodism, but not Congre- 
gationalism. The very life and soul of the system consists 
in embracing me?i, and not an abstraction. In my experi- 
ence, you can do nothing toward raising a church unless 
there is enough of the self- moving spirit en the spot to 
make a fair beginning. Had the New England people sent 
me here to raise a Congregational church, and pledged me 
funds for support, I do not believe that in five years I could 
have got any foot-hold. The only hope of success was, that 
there was self-movement here : the people wanted such a 
church, and were ready to move and act, to labor and to 
give. But to this hour it remains an experiment. I started 
here too weak, and would never do so again. We have 
been much prospered, but the trials through which we have 
passed, and must yet pass, are almost beyond what you can 
conceive of." 

" February 23d. 
"I have just organized a young ladies' Bible-class. We 
have sixty already, with fair prospects of many more. I am 
working with all my soul. Last Sabbath I threw my con- 
gregation ' all aback ' by preaching on the sovereignty of 
God, and election. It shook the building terribly. Some 
cried, and some threatened, and some were grieved, and 
some were mad, and some were disappointed, and I? — no 
more moved by it than you are in Newington. I preached 
not only the truth, but truth that I am prepared to main- 
tain anywhere. I hope it will do good." 

To Rev. J. C. W . 

" March 3d. 
" Let no man who values his soul, or his body, ever go 
into a great city to become a pastor. I thought. I knew 
what hard work meant before I came here; but I did not, 
nor did I ever dream of it. I can not describe it to you ; 
but here every thing works on a different scale, and human 
nature is cast in a different mould, from what it is in New 
England. But it is unsanctified human nature, after all; 
and I sometimes feel as if I must cut every string and run. 
I have been here nearly three years, preach to a great con- 
gregation in a beautiful church, and have, generally, three 



284 JOHN TODD. 

or four theological students ; but oh ! the care and wear 
and tear, the tears and fears, the pulling and lifting, the 
creeping and weeping, the sighing and crying, necessarily 
connected with raising up a new church in a great city, all 
alone, with none to love you, or aid you, or go with you ! 
I could tell you a long and a sad story. Yet we have been 
most abundantly prospered. We have exceeded the hopes 
and expectations of all ; and we have, on the whole, very 
far exceeded ray own expectations. Yet if you were to see 
me, you would be surprised to see how many gray hairs 
cover my head, and how very old a man may become in 
three years. 

" I was, of course, not surprised to learn that you were 
dismissed ; for I have ceased to be surprised at any thing, 
and, least of all, at any change in the ministry. God will 
overrule it all for good; and if you can find a snug place 
soon, you will find your materials of very great service to 
you. But when you settle again, do not lean too much 
upon old sermons, and become lazy; consider how poor they 
are, and how little execution they have done, and go to 
work and make better. They will be your ruin, if you lean 
upon them. I can not judge as to the "causes which drove 
you away, or of your judiciousness. I have no reason, how- 
ever, to suppose that you were not judicious. At this day 
you will find breezes and storms everywhere, go where you 
will; and the great thing you need on such occasions is, to 
keep cool and self-possessed. Many a ship has outridden the 
storm, by the coolness of the captain, when the least worry 
or flurry in him would have thrown her on her beam-ends. 
This is a hard matter, and requires much manhood, much 
nerve, much philosophy, and more grace. As a general 
thing, it is not best to reprove or instruct or reason with 
those who are fools, or drunk, or mad, or under any strong 
excitement. When the swine get to running, you can not 
stop them. Cold w^ater is the place where they must go. 
When the storm is over, and the passions are cool, and all 
parties are calm, then is the time to reprove and instruct. 
Had Christ reproved Peter in words, when he only put his 
cool eye upon him, very likely Peter had sworn at him I" 

" March 7th. 

" Doctor Johnson wrote a small but good book, to pay for 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 285 

putting his mother into the grave ; and I am writing a small 
and poor book, to keep my mother out of the grave." 

To Mr. A. M . 

"March 7th. 
"If there is any one thing above all others which I am 
disposed to envy, it is the privilege of those who are now in 
our colleges and seminaries, preparing, under a stimulus al- 
most overwhelming, to act their part in human affairs. Set 
your standard high. Fix your eye on a star far above the 
horizon, and take it not off. Study — hard, flesh-tiring study 
— is the only thing that can make men. Genius, like other 
ghosts, is much talked of, but seldom seen. The only gen- 
ius that I ever saw, worth naming, is the result of severe 
application. With this, success is within the reach of every 
young man; without it, it can seldom be obtained,* and can 
not be permanent, if obtained. The intellect and the heart 
must be cultivated together; a divorce between them, like 
that between man and wife, is ruin to both." 

To Mrs. W . 

"March 15th. 

"Don't think of sending into a great city. If there 

be a spot on earth full of pitfalls and death-holes, it is the 
city. Bringing my children here was the greatest trial I 
had in coming; and keeping them here is still the greatest 
trial I have. A boy of his age would be exposed to all 
manner of temptation unavoidably, and a world would not 
pay for the mischief which he might receive. Of all places 
in the world, New England is the place for education. It 
is the great school-house of the land; and an education ob- 
tained there, and habits formed there, are vastly more val- 
uable than those of any other part of the land. I would not 
determine to educate my son unless he first gave evidence 
of piety. This may seem hard, but it is my deliberate opin- 
ion. The first thing a boy needs is a good, firm, powerful 
constitution worked on him, so that in after-years he can en- 
dure great fatigue and labor. The next thing he needs is a 
firm, decided government over him, to which his will shall 
bow without any reserve, and with cheerfulness. The last 
thing (though the first in reality and in importance) is piety 
— a heart submissive and obedient to God. I know that if 
ever I have accomplished any thing in the world worth 

19 



286 JOHN TODD. 

naming, it is in a great measure owing to the fact that I 
worked hard in my boyhood. I am persuaded that most go 
to college too young. You may not like my notions, but 
they are the result of experience ; and were they generally 
adopted, many a good Eli would be spared the sorrow of 
having sons who are ruined." 

To a former Parishioner in Northampton. 

"March 25th. 
"Those Market Street, 'cross-lot, run-over-the-way days! 
they were the honey-moon of life, and will never cease to 
live in my memory. Alas that a rainbow can not last ! 

You can not look back upon those days, dear W , with 

deeper emotions than I do. But we are bubbles, tossed 
about here and there for a few moments, and then we are 
gone forever. Oh that I could think that I had done one 
action, one deed, from a motive sincerely and truly good, or 
one thing that will live and do good when I am gone to 
the dead ! I am here yet, laboring sometimes amidst dis- 
couragements exceedingly great, and, then again, with much 
pleasure and some hope. If I were to live in this world only 
for this world, and were not a minister, and had no respon- 
sibility as to whether men went to heaven or not, I should 
like to live here, and should be very happy. But when it is 
my duty to see a great congregation prepared for heaven, 
and feel that I can not begin to begin to do it, the work is 
discouraging. I do rejoice, toto corde, at the uplifting of the 
Edwards Church — that child of my heart ! May her banner 
wave gloriously long after you and I, dear friend, are forgot- 
ten on earth. No, no ! I have no desire for the West. When 
I think of rest, I think of a grave under some beautiful tree 
in dear New England (bah ! my eyes fill with tears at the 
name, though I do not speak it aloud), where I shall sleep 
till the great morning of the great day of the great rising." 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 287 



CHAPTER XXI. 

LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA — COntl?lUed. 

Revival. — "Truth made Simple."— Difficulties. — Young Men's Association. 
—A wonderful Meeting.— Quidnunc's Letters.— Billy.— A Day of Calam- 
ities. — A fearful Medicine.—" Oh, rise some other such !" — A great Pro- 
fession.— Quarrels.— Scarlet Fever.— Did what he could.— Five sick at 
once.— Sermons in the Sick-room. — What a Storm! — A hard Row. — 
The Place for Usefulness.— Italian Darkness.— A city Church.— Preaching 
of Doctor Kirk.— Dissatisfied Evangelists.— Abandoned.— The resolving 
System.— Abundant Labors.— Never so Prosperous.— Varioloid.— A hard 
Tear.— The lost Sister.— Disaffection.— Wholesale Lies.— Water on a Rock. 
—Threads of Gold. 

" May 6th, 1839. 
"All the winter and spring, the state of religion among 
my people has been most lamentably low. I have felt at 
times as if the waves of worldliness would go over and 
drown us. Over a fortnight since, I told my church that it 
seemed to me that we must perish. I urged them to have 
a prayer- meeting every evening during the week. They 
had not life enough to say no ; so the meetings commenced, 
many feeling opposed to them, many expressing regrets, and 
more feeling indifferent. The state of feeling was sensibly 
altered during the first week. One man, a professor of re- 
ligion, and captain of a Chinaman, was greatly awakened. 
He who had never dared to draw a full breath in a religious 
meeting, broke out and most eloquently described his feel- 
ings. It was electrical. At the close of the first week, I 
told my church that I had assumed the responsibility of the 
meeting for the first week, and now, if they continued, they 
must assume it for the second. During the last week a 
great advance has been made. Some of the church have 
been in deep distress; some have been broken down, and 
given up their hopes ; some have become active and wide 
awake. All feel that the Spirit of God is here. Yet the 
work has only just begun. I have an inquiry-meeting, which 
over twenty have attended. Of these perhaps half a dozen 
have a trembling hope of their conversion. Their convic- 
tions seem very deep, pungent, and sincere " 



288 JOHN TODD. 

To 3Irs. Lucy C. Brace. 

"June 3d. 

"My dear Mother, — When I last saw you, you prom- 
ised, of your own accord, to read any book which I would 
write. You probably had no thought how soon you would 
be called upon to exercise the self- denial. I send you 
'Truth Made Simple,' and shall be glad to know what you 
think of it; and if it meets your approbation, I shall rejoice. 
Oh that I had a mother, whose smile would repay me as I 
laid at her feet my humble eiForts ! But if I had, I probably 
should not have made an effort beyond my profession." 

" June 7th. 

"The secret of all the difficulty, and the apparent cause 
of my want of success among this people, is the jealousy 
of a few of them. They are not sensible of it themselves. 
Each one can see how the others are to blame, but see no 
beam in their own eyes. It seems at times as if I should 
sink under it. No one but myself knows, or can know, the 
difficulties of laboring as I am situated; my church eying 
each other, and each afraid that his neighbor will do less 
than his part; the whole city crowding against us as inter- 
lopers; the ministers all standing off; my time all cut and 
cross-cut up: I am down at heart and sick. Still, I must 
hold on as well as I can, and as long as a wise Director tells 
me to do so. 

" I am trying to get up a society of young men in the 
city, for the protection of young men who come here from 
abroad. It is to save thousands from ruin. I think it will 
go ; and if it does, it will be worth a year's labor. I don't 
know but my forte consists in setting things in motion. 

" I have just had a book-seller from London to see me, to 
make arrangements to publish ' Todd's Works,' as fast as 
they are written, in London. He seemed very much in 
earnest ; and I was sorry that I was so situated that I could 
not negotiate with him. But so is my fortune. It was pre- 
dicted of me w T hen a mere boy, that I was born to be poor." 

"June 9th. 

"A most wonderful meeting ! full, solemn, impressive ! 
Between sixty and seventy in the inquiry-meeting, and the 
most solemn meeting that I have seen this year, or since I 
have been in the city. It took me and the whole church by 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 289 

surprise. I had preached all day on prayer — a very full 
house in the morning, but, owing to the rain, thin this after- 
noon. But what a meeting this evening ! I was tired, and 
went in, expecting to preach little or none ; but when I saw 
the house so full, I could not but preach. I can not but 
hope it is the beginning of a great work. It seems almost 
too much to hope, and yet how easy for God to do what 
we can not do ! I should hope great things, were there not 
great obstacles in the way ; but even these can be overcome 
by the power of God." These hopes were not fully realized. 
The heats of summer were at hand, and already the people 
were leaving the city. A few weeks later, Mr. Todd sent off 
his family to their usual summer retreat at his father-in-law's, 
in Newington, and himself, in company with his lame broth- 
er-in-law, took a long journey through the interior of Penn- 
sylvania. While on this tour, he wrote a number of descrip- 
tive letters which were published in the North American^ 
which stirred up quite a breeze. "Did you write a cer- 
tain Quidnunc's 'Letters from the Interior?' They raised a 
mighty storm, among the Pennsylvanians, about the fellow's 
ears; but though six big guns were discharged at the fellow 
through the newspapers, yet I can not find that they hurt 
him any more than Samuel's rifle did your cat." While trav- 
eling among the mountains in the interior, he came upon a 
deer-hunt. The hounds had started a little fawn; and just 
before he reached the spot, the little creature had leaped for 
refuge into the arms of a man by the roadside. He at once 
bought the little thing, and took it with him to his children 
at Newington, with whom it was a great pet for two or 
three years, whenever they visited at their grandfather's. 
At last "Billy" became so troublesome, and even dangerous, 
that it was necessary to administer to him " euthanasia." 
His horns are still preserved among the family relics. 

The financial condition of the country, which had been 
improving since the panic of 1837, had now. again become 
very bad, and threatened to be worse than ever. 

" September 26th. 

"It is wonderful to notice how in a commercial communi- 
ty every thing is cramped and straitened by a pressure in 
the money market. Every thing here looks blue. No mon- 
ey to be had, no debts paid, and every body feels as if he 



290 JOHN TODD. 

had just been eating new bread and could not digest it. 
The prospect is, there will be fearful times before it is all 
over." 

" October 14th. 
"The banks have all suspended, and we are in a dreadful 
condition. Merchants are failing, business at a stand, and 
every thing looks as if we were going to ruin. What will 
be the result God only knows. It sometimes seems as if my 
church would sink in the storm." 

" October 24th. 
" We live here in a day of calamities. You can hardly, 
nay, you can not, conceive of the distress into which the 
commercial world is at the present time thrown. Our banks 
are all down, our merchants are all stagnating, and every 
thing is as gloomy as you could wish. All the money we 
can get is reduced in value, and, indeed, we can hardly get 
money at any rate sufficient to go to market. The distress 
must and will go through the country, and every man, wom- 
an, and child must suffer. As to my church, I have stood 
looking as coolly as I could while the ship was sinking un- 
der me, and it seemed as if the next moment she must go 
down. I have expected it, and calmly went to the helm, 

anticipating this result. The failure of and the knock- 

ing-away of some other props let down a debt of twenty- 
two thousand dollars directly on the church, and nobody to 
sustain it. No one knew what to do. Some came and con- 
doled with me, and said very kindly that, when the church 
w T as sold, there were friends in the city who would give me 
another post ! In this emergency my daring came to my 
aid. On my own responsibility, and without any body's ad- 
vice, I wrote nearly a hundred notes, and called a meeting. 
There were over eighty present. I made a statement, and 
offered a plan of my own. It was a fearful medicine ; but I 
had made up my mind, and administered it as coolly as you 
could take a pinch of snuff. Most faint-hearted were the 
few who had an inkling of what I was at. Very few sus- 
pected. Most nobly did they meet me. Before we parted, 
twenty-one thousand dollars' worth of pews were sold. We 
are now to carry out the plan, and sell the other one thou- 
sand dollars' worth, and then the church is afloat ! She nev- 
er was so well off as at this moment. But it cost me some 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 291 

sleepless nights, a few more gray hairs, and one speech the 
like of which few ministers ever made. So you see I have 
gone to financiering, and doing the business of this world as 
well as my own. I have just received a call to go from this 
post; but though I should like to go back to dear old New 
England, yet of course I can not think of it. I have pledged 
myself to stand by the ship, not only till she floats, but till 
she is in open sea, under full sail, and not a rock in sight." 
The sale of pews here mentioned amounted to nothing ; the 
increasing financial commotion ruined some, and cramped 
others, of the purchasers, and the debt remained unpaid. 

" October 27th. 

" We have no change and no money here. I married a lit- 
tle fellow last evening in my parlor, but can not spend his 
fee, because nobody can change a two-dollar bill. A sailor 
came to me lately, to have me tie him to an old woman, and 
gave me ten dollars in gold. 'Oh, rise some other such !' " 

" October 28th. 

" I esteem the pastoral office the highest and the holiest 
on earth, since the apostolic was laid aside. It is one that 
God has appointed, and it is incomparably the most impor- 
tant in the world. As long as God gives me health, I should 
not dare break my ordination-vows for any thing else. My 
heart and soul are in it, if in any thing, and it would be an 
unspeakable grief to me to be obliged to leave it." 

" November 25th. 

" J is in real distress, without any mistake. He beg- 
ged for help ; and I sent him twenty dollars in two hours 
after receiving the note. Bis dat qui citd dat. I have been 
hard drawn upon this year; and if, at its close, I have not 
fallen greatly behind, I shall rejoice and be disappointed; 
but I shall make it my rule to do for others as long and as 
far as my power extends, trusting that Providence will re- 
ward me by taking care of mine. We have received great 
mercies ; we have health, we are surrounded by comforts, 
and even luxuries ; and why should we grudge to do what 
little we can to make others happy ?" 

"December 21st. 

"I never knew what changes meant, till within a week; 
and I hope never to see another such week. First, there 
were two quarrels in my church, which were enough to sink 



292 



JOHN TODD. 



it ; and I thought they would, and they came very near it, 
but we got over them by God's help. Next, we have two 
children now sick with the scarlet fever. This is the fifth 
day with Martha, and the third with Mary. Martha has 
been, and is, very sick. I have been with them day and night 
for the last three days. We expect that John and Sarah will 
follow next, though perhaps a kind Providence will spare 
us. In the midst of all, this morning our clear little Lucy 
was born — a fat, plump, sweet child, who promises to bear 
up her grandmother's name with propriety. Just before 
all this, came the crash of the Schuylkill Bank — loss over 
$1,300,000— and all through the knavery of one man? The 
mightiest piece of villainy ever practiced in this country ! 
Thousands and thousands of widows and orphans are ru- 
ined, for there they had invested their all. We have lost 
our little all. God grant that such distress may never again 
fall upon this city. We forget our individual sufferings in 
the general woe. My church is shaken to its foundations. 
Is it not wonderful that the pillars on which my church was 
reared should be thus swept away ? God only is wise, and 
good, and to be trusted. I am worn out, and sick of every 
thing I see ; but so long as God in mercy spares the lives of 
my family, I will not say one word. I hope whoever writes 
my history since I have been here, will be able to say, ' He 
did what he could for that church.' If I can say this from 
the heart, I shall not need to say more." 

" December 31st. 
"Martha continued to droop and droop till she seemed al- 
most gone; but is, we trust, now recovering, though she can 
not turn herself in bed. On Friday, I was taken most vio- 
lently with chills and pains, and for forty-eight hours was 
in agony. Now I have begun to get off the bed, and nurse 
again over the sick. Last night, at midnight, John was tak- 
en, and, I suppose, must now go through a regular siege of 
scarlet fever. If our lives may be spared (oh, how easy to 
be reconciled, when we may thus make one great reserve !), 
we shall feel that God is dealing with us in great mercy and 
kindness. We have but^e at present who are confined to 
the chamber. Of these, three are with me, and over them I 
hang day and night. I count myself the fourth. If man at 
his best estate is altogether vanity, what is he at his lowest 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 293 

and weakest? Did you ever read Charnock on Divine 
Providence ? I have been tossing on my bed, and reading 
it in great pain of body, and yet great mental delight." 

" January 6th, 1840. 

"John is very low — so much so that I should not be sur- 
prised were he to be taken away at an hour's warning. I 
dare not tell Mrs. Todd how I feel, lest it injure her. The 
poor little emaciated groaner ! you would not know him. 
He is out of his head most of the time, but even then tells 
me that he says his prayers softly. Martha sits up fifteen 
minutes in the day. I have had my clothes off but once for 
eighteen days and nights. I preached twice yesterday, ser- 
mons that I wrote in this sick-room. Pray for us much, 
that God would be with us in this hour of darkness." 

"January 20th. 

" John is slowly recovering, though he can not sit up yet. 
Sarah has just got over the worst of her sickness. Martha 
has had a very narrow escape with her life, but is gradually 
creeping uphill. It is now five weeks since I have had a 
night's rest. But few of the nights have I taken off my 
clothes. Here I have staid, and here written my poor ser- 
mons. But, oh, what a storm we have in my church ! a 
storm that threatens to sink it, and will sink it, without a 
special interposition of Divine Providence. The fact is, that 
some of my church have been at swords' points for the last 
year and a half; and I have been burning up between them. 
The result, I have no doubt, will be that I shall leave, and 
my poor church will quarrel and tear each other a while, 
and then fall into the hands of the Presbyterians. Great 
efforts have already been made to effect this end. No one 
knows, or can ever know, the difficulties I have had to meet, 
since I have been here, from without and within. I am 
wearing out here with hard labors, all alone, with none to 
sympathize with me, none to aid me. I am as solitary as if 
there were not a fellow-minister within hundreds of miles 
of me. My row has been a hard one ; but I have labored 
without murmuring ; and if God calls me to leave, I hope I 
shall do it without a tear." 

"January 27th. 

" Were I to go back to my theological life (and oh that I 
could !), I would do differently from what I did. I would 



294 JOHN TODD. 

not enter the ministry as young by four or five years (I was 
twenty-five). I would then, Providence favoring, settle in 
some small, pleasant village, make me a-convenient and de- 
sirable home, get me a great pile of books, and there I would 
stick, dwelling among mine own people, and trying to carry 
them with me to heaven. I have done very differently. I 
have built three large churches out of nothing, all of which 
are now strong and powerful. I have had anxieties too 
great, because upon the success of each church my character 
has been staked. I have preached in the cottage, and the 
school-house, and the saloon, and the splendid church. The 
medium is the place for usefulness. ' Society,' says Sam 
Slick, ' is like a pork-barrel : the middle is good, but the too 
and bottom are apt to be a leetle tainted? "What we call 
'common folks' are the backbone of all that is good, and 
among such, were I Horace, I would seek to spend my life. 
Let him stick to his books, make all he can his own, save 
every thought in his power ; it will all be needed, and come 
in use hereafter. Let him live near to God in the closet ; it 
is worth more than all the world besides." 

"February 3d. 

" I consider J a yonng man of first-rate mind in most 

respects, and of uncommon attainments. There seems to be 
but one great defect in him — a certain Italian darkness — a 
stern withdrawing from every human thing, and making his 
own soul the repository of its own confidence and secrets. 
This is well, if not carried too far. If it increases upon him, 
it will be unhappy, and eventually lead to misanthropy; but 
should it pass away, as the cloud passes from the sun, he will 
be a bright man. I trust that he will outgrow it, and that 
eventually it will become only an independence arising from 
native energy of character. It is owing very much to orig- 
inal temperament; and I know what it means, for I have a 
spice of it in my own constitution." 

"February 5th. 

" Till I came here, I never knew what worlc, what trouble, 
what anxiety meant. The ship in which you are sailing is 
continually under strong headway and forever in sight of 
the rocks. You can not sleep a moment, you can not relax 
a moment, you can not cease to labor a moment. It is for 
this reason that so many break down in cities. My poor 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 295 

head has turned gray faster here in one year than in any ten 
years of my life before I came, and yet I have been exceed- 
ingly prosperous. But ah ! the wear of such eternal labor, 
such sleepless vigilance ! I can truly say that for comfort, 
for health, for personal enjoyment, I would prefer the small- 
est country parish in good old New England to any great 
church in any great city. In a city it is all luxury and all 
misery — no such thing as comfort ; and the more splendid 
the church, the greater your misery. But add to all this 
that I stand alone, have no minister to sympathize with me, 
none to associate with me. I have been sustaining a load 
enough to crush shoulders broader than mine, and the mo- 
ment that Providence allows, I shall lay it down, or it will 
sink me into the grave." 

At about this time Rev. E. N". Kirk, then at the height of 
his popularity and success as an evangelist, visited the city, 
and preached in several of the churches to immense audi- 
ences. A general religious interest was excited, in which 
the Clinton Street Church shared. "My people are begin- 
ning to pray, as I believe, with great earnestness, and are 
asking for a blessing. The last two Sabbaths I have thrown 
aside my notes, and preached right down upon and at the 
people. There is already a very unusual solemnity upon 
my congregation." In these circumstances, Mr. Todd wrote 
most urgently to Mr. Kirk to come and labor with him. He 
came, but soon became dissatisfied with something, and left 
abruptly, after having " preached a few times without much 
effect." " Mr. Nettleton, too, is here — has drunk tea with 
us. I have tried very hard to get him to preach for me, to 
attend some meetings, to visit with me, but he will not. 
When shall we be done with the idea that we may pout, 
and refuse to eat, if every dish is not served just to our lik- 
ing?" Thus abandoned, Mr. Todd, already exhausted by 
sickness and watching in his family, had to shoulder the 
whole burden of the work of the revival. 

" March 10th. 

"I have preached, or exhorted, in public over sixty times 
in the last four weeks, and am much worn down. My nerves 
are in such a condition that I can not sleep at night. There 
have been over one hundred and twenty in the inquiry-meet- 
ing; of these perhaps fifty are my own people; the rest are 



296 JOHN TODD. 

wanderers, strangers, any thing. The most distressing part 
of it is, that the work is superficial. They want to be con- 
verted on the resolving system — to leap,, into the kingdom 
without a pang of sorrow or remorse, or a single view of sin. 
They want to be excited a little, and then coaxed into the 
kingdom, and at once raked into the church." 

"April 13th. 

"I have been so ill for the last three weeks that I have 
been able only to drag through daily pressing duties. I 
have had, and still have, a severe pain in my breast, and 
have, at times, thought of dropping all till better. Still, I 
have held on, and am trying to do what I can for my flock. 
I have preached, and talked, and labored most abundantly. 
More than two hundred have been in my inquiry- meet- 
ings, of whom one half were members of my congregation. 
We shall probably have nearly or quite fifty added to our 
church at our next communion. Most of these are young, 
and nearly one half are young men. In many respects 
my church was never so prosperous as at this hour. The 
money-affairs are in a dreadful condition : if we live through 
this storm, we shall, as I hope, have a clearer sky. Two or 
three times I have been on the point of laying down the bur- 
den and running for my life, and should have done it, were it 
not that perseverance is a part of my character and a part of 
my religion. The Presbyterians stand off more and more." 

"May 24th. 

"We are but indifferently well here. I have not been 
out of the house myself for nearly two weeks. While at 
New York, I had chills, and, on my return, a severe attack of 
bilious fever, added to a touch of the varioloid, which I took 
in visiting a poor miserable creature dying with the small- 
pox — visiting her officially, after six other ministers had re- 
fused. I have suffered much pain, but am now better. We 
have just had all the walls of our lecture, Sabbath-school, 
and conference rooms taken off, and an entire new coat of 
hard white plastering put on, and it looks very inviting and 
cheering. Things have gone wonderfully well with my 
people this spring, so far ; but it is about time to have trou- 
ble of some kind or another." 

"July 5th. 

" Early in the morning I expect to send off all my treas- 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 297 

ures. She who thirteen years ago went off alone w-ith me 
will now return to you, for a short season, with her five 
children ! I hope they may have Divine protection on the 
way, and during their stay. It is a great thing to be thus 
obliged to break up every year, and leave my people for so 
long a period ; but I am almost worn out. The past is by 
far the hardest year I ever had. I could not go through 
another such without sinking under it. Every possible ex- 
ertion is made to make me pull down the Congregational 
flag; but I have nailed it to the mast. Zcan not change: 
I have not been used to it." 

Having thus sent off his family to Newington, he again 
started, with his lame brother-in-law, for a journey into the 
interior of the State. Their route led them through the coal 
region, where they visited some of the mines, through the 
beautiful Wyoming Valley, and up the Susquehanna into 
New York State, whence, after a short visit among friends 
in the lake country, and a brief halt at Saratoga Springs, 
they returned home by the way of Newington, bringing the 
family with them. It was on this journey that the facts re- 
specting Wyoming Valley and its history w T ere collected, 
which were afterward embodied in the little book called 
"The Lost Sister." 

11 September 22d. 

" On coming back to my flock, I found almost every 
thing wrong and out of order, and God only knows whether 
it will ever be otherwise. The disaffected seemed to have 
matured their plans to turn the church into a Presbyterian 
church. To effect this, nothing was too bad to say about 
me, my family, preaching, talents, etc. My course was, first, 
to see how the great body of my church and congregation 
stood ; for it now became a question, what should be the 
fate of my church. I found shortly, that, as a whole, the 
church were unitedly and firmly knit together, and that they 
were firm friends to me and to Congregationalism. I found, 
moreover, that if I left, it would distract and break up my 
church ; and, at all events, it would not do to leave them at 
present, unless I was willing to see the church utterly in 
ruins. My course was soon fixed, and from it I have not 
deviated a hair. I at once stood aloof from every body. I 
have let them say just what they please, and as they please, 



298 JOHN TODD. 

and when they please. I have taken no notice of stories or 
slanders, violence or threatenings (which have been most 
abundant). I have preached as good serrnons as I could pos- 
sibly get time to write, have visited the sick, and made eight 
regular family visits every week. I have quarreled with no- 
body, and I will quarrel with nobody. I shall stay as long 
as seems to be my duty, and leave the very moment when 
duty to my trust will seem to admit. If there were any 
thing that I had done or said that could be got hold of, 
the most that could be made of it would. Fortunately such 
timber has hitherto been very scarce. I should ask and 
take a dismission at once, were it not that in so doing I 
should endanger, and probably upset, Congregationalism in 
this city for a long time to come. And yet it seems as if I 
could not live here in this state much longer. I get used 
to it, just as the eels did to being skinned. I have tried to 
feel right, and to do right, and, so far as I have, I am sure 
God will shield me. I admire one sentence in one of Lu- 
ther's letters to Melancthon : 'Monendus est Philippus, ut de- 
sinat esse rector mundi.' " 

"November 14th. 

"I have been driven almost to madness by the conduct 
of some of my people. I do not believe that Edwards ever 
had so bad things said of him, such wholesale lies told. 
But I go on, and, though I have been brought into close 
corners, yet I have outgeneraled all so far, by standing still 
and doing nothing. I have no plans for the future; all is in 
the hands of Providence." 

" December 29th. 

" We have trials with our people, and such, at times, as 
it seems as if we should sink under. Nobody except those 
on the ground can conceive of the methods taken to annoy 
us. The disaffected disgust and keep people away; they 
give the impression through the city that we are going to 
ruins ; they try to persuade those now with us to leave us ; 
they keep people from joining us, who would do it other- 
wise ; they seem determined to destroy the church. I spare 
no health, strength, heart, or soul in preaching and in labor- 
ing; but it would do as much good to pour water upon a 
rock. It is now six months since I have received a cent 
of salary; the whole church is in a state of heart-sinking; 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 299 

and God must deliver us by his special interposition, or the 
church is gone to ruin." 

It was in such a furnace that Mr. Todd's character was 
tried and made more perfect, his ambition and pride humbled, 
his meekness and patience increased, his experience of hu- 
man nature enriched, and his courage, his indifference to 
men, his composure and endurance, wrought out for the 
work of the ministry that yet lay before him. Not a few of 
the threads of gold that gleamed in his later character and 
life .were drawn and woven in these fires. 



300 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

life at Philadelphia — continued. 

A kind Publisher.— Scalding Water. — Great Cities. — The Pension. — Char- 
acter attacked.— A severe Ordeal.— Insults. — A boyish Heart.— Days of 
Anguish. — Temporary Peace. — Vacation. — Burlington College. — First 
Glimpse of Adirondacks. — The Backing - spider. — Philosophical Fog. — 
Winking.— In the Woods. — Restored.— Welcome Home.— A mortgaged 
Church for Sale.— A distressed People.— A solemn Birthday.— Dismission 
asked. — Postponement. — Efforts. — Tears. — All over. — A Cradle overhung 
with Gloom. — In a Hall. — How far a Failure. — Causes. — How little lacked. 
— Presbyterian Generosity. — Congregational Liberality. — A heavy Blow. 
—Character saved. — Invited to Remain. — The scattered People.— Farewell 
to Philadelphia. 

To J. II. Butler ', his Publisher. 

" January 15th, 1841. 
"I do not know how much longer I shall feel it to be ray 
duty to stand my ground here, to be scorned, and slandered, 
and abused beyond all description. I should let go in an 
hour, but the moment that I do the ship is all a wreck. I 
have not received a cent of salary for more than six months; 
and had it not been for thee, thou good friend, I don't know 
but my babes would have starved. Many thanks, dear B., 
for your many kindnesses to me and mine. You have no 
idea how much you live in my memory, or how much I 
value your friendship. May the Lord bless you ! and if you 
do as well as you know how, he certainly will." 

To Rev. G. R. H . 

"January 20th. 
" I have been in water scalding hot ever since I saw you, 
and have been scalded all over; but as I keep perfectly 
still, I heal up fast. There is an onset made — an effort which 
I have never seen equaled for violence, for slander, for cruelty, 
for virulence — to upset the ship, discharge every hand, throw 
the cargo into the sea, and hoist another flag. What the re- 
sult will be, will depend entirely upon the will and designs 
of a wise and gracious Providence. I can no.t think that I 
and my church will be allowed to be killed. But if we are, 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 301 

it will be open murder : we shall die hard ; and you will hear 
our death-throes even in New York, noisy as you are. I 
could tell you a tale that would amaze you. I have a Mon- 
day-morning prayer -meeting of ministers at my study 
weekly, and have ten ministers of seven different denomina- 
tions, but not one of them is a Presbyterian. I am deliver- 
ing a short course of lectures on ' Great Cities,' which are 
making a noise here, and drawing great crowds." 

Evidence having been put into Mr. Todd's hands, about 
this time, that his father had served in the Revolutionary 
War, he made an attempt to secure for his mother the pen- 
sion to which she was entitled. 

To Rev. and Mrs. S. N'. Shepard. 

"February 4th. 

" Dear Brother and Sister, — I have run a curious 
course since I saw you. On reaching home, I pushed on at 
once to Washington, and pushed here and there ; but push- 
ing did no good. They would not begin to begin to give 
me a pension ; and so I came home with my finger in my 
mouth, having spent just fifty dollars in the two journeys, 
and having become perfectly satisfied that no star shines 
propitiously on my path." [At a later day, a small pension 
was secured.] 

" We have had trial upon trial since I saw you, and I 
don't suppose you will be particularly delighted with their 
recital. It is enough to say that I have been the butt at 
which there has been sharp and hard shooting. Some of 
my good folks, and those who were bitter enemies to each 
other a few weeks since, have banded together, and have 
had caucuses about every evening. One says this, and an- 
other says that, and the rest swear to it. I had about made 
up my mind to leave them at once and cut clear; but just 
at this time they attacked my moral character; said that I 
was a liar and a slanderer, and that my moral character was 
both of these in New England ; and snowed the backside of 
a letter which they said would prove this, etc. I then made 
up my mind to die hard. I simply said, ' There is my char- 
acter, which I have been twenty years in earning; take it, 
make the most of it, impeach it, if you please. I am ready 
to try any issue between you and me you choose. I only 
demand that you bring your charges, and that they be tried 

20 



302 JOHN TODD. 

before the strongest ecclesiastical council the land can af- 
ford.' They then tried to buy me off — would give me a 
year's salary to leave. No, I can't be bought. The hawk 
lias taken the cat up in the air, to eat her up ; and when 
he finds that puss won't be eaten, he says, 'Let go, let go.' 
'No,' says puss, ' you must first carry me back to the place 
where you took me up.\ They are now daily and nightly 
plotting. They say, 'Why doesn't Mr. Todd discipline us 
for slandering him? Will he lie under such imputations?' 
I reply, ' Cool, cool, gentlemen ! you may pick at my char- 
acter all the day, and all the year, and I shall have enough 
left. You don't trouble me, and I am not in a hurry.' So 
I stand perfectly still, and let them work. I am sometimes 
amazed at my own coolness; but, then, I know that I am on 
the right side, and they on the wrong ; that all the praying 
part of the church are against them ; that all the rest of the 
church and congregation are united and firm ; that the com- 
munity will go against them ; and that on their part it is 
merely a determination to triumph over one poor worm of 
the dust. What will be the result I know not. I have 
thrown myself upon that Providence that has ever taken 
care of me, and leave it all in his hands. I shall aim to fol- 
low that Providence. In the mean time, I go on, through 
evil report and through good report, unmoved. I wish 
that I could get away, if it be God's will ; but I dare not 
do it of myself. In the mean time, the sympathies of my 
people are gathering around us more and more. I have 
pledged myself not to run, come what will, and I think they 
will stand by me. It is the most severe ordeal and the most 
severe trial that I ever passed through, and God grant that 
it may do me good. I think it has done me good ; for 
though I shall not break, or flinch, or sink, till I die, yet it 
lias led me to throw myself more upon God, and by prayer 
to commit my destiny unto him. My head whitens fast, and 
my nights are sleepless ; and yet I can laugh as heartily as 
ever, and feel no more discouraged than on that buoyant 
morning. when I left Boston on foot, with my worldly goods 
under my arm, for Yale." 

ToW.K. B , in Paris. 

" February 8th. 
"I am insulted daily, in the house of God and everywhere 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 303 

else : Mrs. Todd, too, comes in for her share of reproach and 
contumely, and it sometimes seems as if we must sink under 
it. But God has been gracious hitherto, and he must be 
praised and confided in. I think that I should have left and 
gone to dear New England, had they not so violently at- 
tacked my moral character ; but when they did that, I said, 
'I don't go at present.' I have suffered all that the tongue 
can inflict, and henceforth every new infliction will be less 
and less felt. I have often said, 'Oh that I had one true 
New England heart with which to commune !' What a 
world this is, that one's friends should turn against him ! 
and what a world will that be, out of which all that is sin- 
ful shall be cast ! I have tried to be still, to return good 
for evil, and blessing for cursing, and on no occasion to be 
thrown off my guard. My church and congregation, as a 
whole, are united, and would be cheerful and happy, were 
it not for 'men.' But I will leave all till I see you. I will 
only add that you may expect to be amazed. I have worked 
as hard since I have been in this city as a man ought ever 
to do. I have put up with as much, and have been will- 
ing to do any thing for the prosperity of my church. A 
thousand changes have taken place since I saw you, a thou- 
sand new developments made, and a thousand new things 
have turned up. But the heart is the same, the heavens 
over us are the same, and the hopes of the good man are 
unchanged. You, too, I learn, have been touched by sorrow 
and disappointment. May you receive good from it. Can 
you ever, in your gay city, send your thoughts across the 
great waters, and think of such a place as the White Mount- 
ains, and the pure, green, murmuring Saco, born up in the 
very solitudes of nature ? Boyish heart, this of mine ! It 
might travel the earth over, and see every thing upon which 
the sun shines, but never could memory let go that vision! 
Shall we ever again see it in company ? Is there any air in 
La Belle France to be compared with that of our own native 
hills ? In all the world, is there such a spot on which to die 
and be buried, as under the shade of one of our own trees, 
where our native birds would sing over our rest ?" 

"March 2od. 
" Since I last wrote you I have passed through more trou- 
bles than at any time in my life during the same period. 



304 ' JOHN TODD. 

The determined and avowed attempt has been made for 
months to destroy my Christian and ministerial character, 
in my church, out of my church, and through the city. I 
have spent sleepless nights and days of. anguish. I have 
been lacerated and worn down; and you know that 'oppres- 
sion maketh the wise man mad.' I have almost wished for 
the grave as a resting-place. I have not retorted or thrown 
back. I have stood still and waited upon the Lord. In the 
mean time I have worked hard, have attended five meetings 
between the Sabbaths every week throughout the season, 
have not lost a half day this winter, have written my lect- 
ures on Great Cities, and preached them twice over in the 
city to immense audiences." 

About this time his opponents determined to measure 
their strength in a church meeting. The result showed 
that they could command only their own less than half a 
dozen votes. Greatly chagrined at this signal defeat, they 
at once withdrew from the congregation, leaving the church 
to enjoy a temporary peace. 

"April 10th. 

"Every day shows that the world turns round very rap- 
idly. The death of Harrison filled all hearts with deep 
gloom and sorrow. It is real, even in a great city; and the 
impression is so deep that the very streets are saddened. 
Our churches are hung in mourning, and the nation grieves. 
Hardly had we recovered from the shock here, when the dis- 
closures came respecting the United States Bank. Every 
thing is now prostrate here, and all is in distress." 

To Samuel Brace, his Brother-in-law, in Yale College. 

"May 5th. 
"I congratulate you on your appointment, which certainly 
speaks well of you as having character. I think father and 
mother have great reason to be proud of their children — of 
all except my poor self. I am not what God made me, nor 
what man made me; merely what I made myself, with no 
model to work by. I shall send you my little new book 
('Great Cities'), and you must tell me how you like it. I 
don't know that I shall stop writing till Noah Webster does. 
It's a vexatious business ; but a French writer says, ' He who 
has written once will write again.' The only pleasant thing, 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 305 

by way of relaxation, that I have had since I saw you was, 
that this morning I shot a large rat in my cellar in the dark, 
and he upon the jump. Can you beat that?" 

To Hon. W. H . 

" May 24th. 

"It is difficult to unite all needed qualities in any one 
man. He who shall possess character, heart, piety, and in- 
tellect sufficient to leave the marks of a powerful ministry in 
after-years upon a community can hardly be expected to be 
the most popular for the present moment ; and the boat that 
sails beautifully upon the smooth waters with soft breezes 
can hardly be expected to have a build and a strength that 
can weather a gale and outride storms. I feel that the right 
man, in a position like yours, ought to have the power of do- 
ing as much good abroad, by character and influence, as at 
home. But you have lived too long not to know that men 
are very imperfect creatures. Charity comes with age." 

The severe trials through which Mr. Todd had passed, to- 
gether with the sickness in his family, and the excitement 
and labors connected with the revival, had so worn upon 
him, that when the hot weather and the. time for his annual 
vacation came on he found himself seriously out of health. 
He had engaged to deliver an oration at Amherst and Bur- 
lington colleges. Leaving, therefore, his family in their usu- 
al summer retreat, he hastened to perform this duty before 
seeking entire rest. From Burlington he writes : 

"August 2d. 

"This place is indescribably beautiful in location and 
scenery. It stands on the side of a hill running parallel 
with Lake Champlain. On the top of a hill, facing west and 
east, stands the college, just a mile from the lake. You look 
down west, and the beautiful village, containing five thou- 
sand inhabitants, and all embosomed in trees, lies at your 
feet. You look over it, and there is the lake, curving along 
toward Canada, just ten miles wide, and apparently not 
a quarter of that width. Opposite Burlington, some three 
miles off, a rock rears up its form, like a tall hay-stack, na- 
ked, cold, and solitary, and beautiful. Then, beyond, are 
four little islands, exactly alike, called 'The Four Brothers,' 
covered with trees and foliage. They rise up apparently 
seventy-five or one hundred feet, and then are covered and 



306 JOHN TODD. 

crowned with a most beautiful green. Beyond the lake is a 
horizon of mountains, from twelve to fifty miles off, in dif- 
ferent ranges and tiers; and among them, some forty miles 
away, rises Mount Marcy, over five thousand feet high. 
That whole region is a wonder, and, in other years, I have 
often tried to pierce it with the eye and see what is there. 
No pen can describe the beauty of those blue mountains, 
apparently withdrawn from the world that they may com- 
mune and live together. It is a region of wilds, and lakes, 
and rivers, and steeps, and precipices, and the place where 
Nature walks alone, without any troublesome people to fol- 
low her to gaze at her naked limbs, or to take the measure 
of her footsteps. From the college you also look east, and 
there are my own native Green Mountains, most symmetric- 
ally beautiful. They are twenty miles off, but you would 
not think them over three. They have also a veil of blue 
over them, so that you can not exactly see what is going on 
there. 'Mansfield' is the name of the peak directly east of 
this; and it is the highest peak in the whole range." 

"August 3d. 

"Last evening I delivered my oration before the college, 
in the large Unitarian church, and under the pressure of 
such a sick headache as almost killed me. I had the most 
undivided attention, and I believe it went off well ; but I 
feel awfully on this most beautiful morning. My head rolls, 
and plunges, and twitches, ' with a hobble and a hitch,' and 
goes each way like a * backing-spider.' " 

" Evening. 

" I lay on the bed all the forenoon. Dined at Professor 
W 's, in company with several gentlemen. This after- 
noon I heard an oration before the literary societies, and 
also a poem. The oration, as I presume, was deep, but it 
was the dryest of all fodder. The poem was a long string 
of rhymes and good pious feeling. This evening we had the 
Junior Exhibition — very manly and sound, with a vein of 
the obscure, foggy, misty Coleridgeism in all. This gives 
a kind of deep, philosophical fog, through which common 
thoughts appear quite magnificent. Did you ever see that 
boy who owned the parrot, and that other boy who owned 
the owl? 'Can your bird talk?' says the owl boy. 'Oh 
yes,' says the parrot boy, ' he can talk every thing. Can 



LIFE AT PHILADELHIA. 307 

your bird talk ?' ' No, he can't talk yet, but he can wink 
terribly.' I believe greatly in this winking: it is a most 
infallible evidence of deep thought. Were I to stay here 
among these professors long, I should have to brush up my 
learning ; but I contrive to get along with small shot and 
paper- wadding. To-morrow I am going across the lake, 
with two or three of the professors, into that wilderness 
of mountains, in measuring heights and depths, climbing 
mountains and exploring lakes and rivers, and peeping into 
the very cupboard of nature. You will be satisfied to have 
me go, when you know that I go under the protection of 
barometers and spy-glasses, as well as of fish-lines and poor 
guns, and also an experienced ' woodsman,' who goes as 
guide and navigator. We carry tea, and salt, and sugar, 
and pork, and Indian meal, and a kettle, and expect to have 
' a time of it.' One of the professors, an enthusiast, has been 
every year for seven years, and was the first that ever ex- 
plored the wilderness. I am in hopes that this jaunt, most 
of which must be taken in canoes or on foot, will renew all 
my powers." 

This was the beginning of those annual hunting -tours 
among the "Adirondacks," which were continued for many 
years, till the increasing multitude of visitors to the region 
drove him to seek wilder haunts. From this expedition he 
returned to his work with renewed health. " Could I feel 
uniformly as well as I now do, this would be a new world 
to me." 

"September 6th. 

"My church were down, and divided, and disheartened, 
and ready to sink, when I reached home ; but yesterday I 
put in the oar with more than my own strength. The con- 
gregation was very large, very attentive, and very solemn. 
They have again a rallying-point, in having their minister. 
Our people never seemed so glad to see us as on our pres- 
ent return." 

Mr. Todd had returned to his work with many fears, but 
yet not without hope that he would be permitted to go 
on with it; but he soon found himself and his church so 
" hedged up " that further progress was impossible. His 
opponents were in control of the finances of the church ; 
and, though they had retired from active participation in its 



308 JOHN TODD. 

affairs, were in a position to determine its fate. ISTo money- 
was allowed to reach the hands of the pastor; he had re- 
ceived no salary since the beginning of the year; and it was 
evident that he could not much longer support his large 
family in an expensive city without any income. But, more 
than this, the church itself was in the hands of his enemies. 
At the time when it was built, a mortgage was given for a 
part of the purchase-money of the ground, which contained 
this condition, that if at any time the interest should not be 
paid within thirty days after it was due and demanded, the 
whole principal might be demanded, and collected by fore- 
closure. In the midst of the financial troubles of 1837 the 
interest became due, and its payment was neglected for more 
than the thirty days, and foreclosure was threatened. In 
this strait, the managers of the society found a friend to buy 
up and hold the mortgage for them. In doing so he obtain- 
ed, of course, the right to foreclose. By means of this right, 
therefore, vested in one of their friends, they now took meas- 
ures to sell the church over the heads of the congregation. 

The following extracts are from a private note-book: 

"September 16th. 

"My people just begin to learn that our church is to be 
sold, and have been calling all day in great distress. I 
know not what I can do for them, or how to advise them. 
The Lord only can guide them, and I pray that he will. 
The perplexities are almost innumerable." 

" October 9th. 

" My birthday ! forty-one years ! I have tried to recall 
the mercies of God ; to be affected in view of them ; to re- 
pent before him ; to mourn, and to ask his forgiveness for 
the past, his aid for the future, his mercy, his compassion, 
and his Spirit. Oh, the past — how solemn in review ! the 
future — how solemn in prospect ! My God, my Saviour, my 
Sanctifier, oh, never forsake me !" 

" October 19th. 

"Asked a dismission from my church — a full, solemn, aw- 
ful meeting. The debt now upon us is intolerable, together 
with the opposition of restless spirits. I tried to write and 
speak and act in the spirit of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It 
is the most severe trial that I ever had. But all the provi- 
dences of God have worked against us, and it seems to be 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 309 

the will of God that Congregationalism shall not be estab- 
lished in this city. I have spared no labors, no anxieties, 
no efforts ; but all in vain. God, in his infinite mercy, for- 
give my sins, frailties, and short-comings in duty, and lead 
me in a straight path, and bless my poor flock. I have 
given my heart's love to my people, but must leave them." 

" October 22d. 

"My church met this evening. In the hope that they 
might yet raise the money needed, they voted to postpone 
acting on my request till Wednesday next, in the evening. 
Vain hope, as I fear I" 

"October 23d. 

"All my poor flock are hoping, and striving, and praying 
for deliverance. I have very little hope." 

" October 26th. 

"To-morrow evening I expect to be dismissed, without 
home, without property, without employment, without any 
future prospects, and with the atmosphere poisoned by the 
insinuations, the reports, and the falsehoods of the disaf- 
fected." 

" October 27th. 

" No hopes for my people, no deliverance ! The Lord hath 
hedged up the way. We have spent the day as one of fast- 
ing and prayer — my family, and many of the church. 

"Six o'clock. — The gentlemen have called to inform me 
that they can not raise the money. With many tears and 
an agonized heart they have come to that conclusion. 

u JVine o'clock. — It is all over! God in his mysterious 
providence has severed the tie which bound me and my dear 
flock together. They have, with many tears, voted my dis- 
mission, with their unabated respect, affection, and confi- 
dence. Oh that I may have a heart to say, 'Thy will be 
done !' I know, believe, and, blessed be God,/eeZ that he is 
wise and holy and good. He hath done all things right, I 
doubt not, all wisely, and all for the best. To him I com- 
mend my helpless family, my afflicted flock, and my own 
bleeding heart !" 

In the midst of all this trouble and sorrow, the fifth 
daughter, Anna Danforth, was born. It was a dark world 
that she came into, and her coming may have seemed, for 
the moment, to deepen the clouds that already lowered over 



310 JOHN TODD. 

the helpless family of many little ones, though the father 
was the last person in the world to express or to entertain 
such a feeling; but not one of the children has brought 
more sunshine into the family than this one, whose cradle 
was thus overhung with gloom and rocked with tears. 

On returning from a trip to New England, Mr. Todd 
found that his people had opened public worship in a large 
hall, not without hope that he would remain with them. 
He had, however, already accepted a call to another post, 
and therefore preached to them but a few Sabbaths in this 
hall, where, with numbers unthinned by disaster, they gath- 
ered to hear him. 

How far his work had been a failure may be determined 
from these facts, that, in spite of the unparalleled pecuniary 
distress of the times, and of the difficulties of planting a 
Congregational church in an uncongenial community, and 
of inconceivable obstacles and opposition without and with- 
in, he had built up a handful of people into a great congre- 
gation, had added more than fifty annually to the church, 
had caused the Sabbath-school to become a "model school" 
of about four hundred members, so perfect in its machinery 
as to attract visitors from all parts of the land, and even 
from Europe — had trained two young men for the ministry, 
and seen them settled over large and important churches — 
had brought his people to contribute annually more than 
one thousand dollars, to send the Gospel abroad, and to pay 
more than forty thousand dollars toward their own church 
edifice, and had acquired a position and influence in the 
city as a preacher and lecturer excelled by none. At the 
very time when he and his people were " tipped into the 
street," his congregation was immense, his Sabbath -school 
was full, and all the activities of a great, and young, and 
earnest church were in full operation. 

It is evident that but for the great and long-continued 
financial distress of the times, the church must have suc- 
ceeded in spite of all obstacles. It is equally evident that 
it would have triumphed over even this obstacle also, had it 
been sustained by the assistance, or even only the sympathy 
and moral support, of the churches around it. These were 
withheld. " Oar Presbyterian brethren have never felt as 
if they dared, either Old School or New, to invite me even 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 311 

into a ministerial prayer -meeting." "The ministers here, 
and the churches, crowd ; and I can have no sympathy and 
no aid from them, but the contrary. If the ministers of the 
Gospel would only stand by me, I should have no fear in 
staying." And this was written after the church edifice 
was abandoned. 

The reader will be surprised to learn how little the church 
lacked to success. "I asked my people to give me a dis- 
mission. They laid it on the table for a week, and made a 
death-struggle to raise the twenty -seven thousand dollars 
which they still owed. They strained every nerve, and 
found that they could raise twenty-two thousand dollars, but 
only on the condition that the whole twenty-seven thousand 
dollars should be raised. We are, therefore, compelled to 
yield to circumstances which we can not control, and relin- 
quish the undertaking." Only five thousand dollars, then, 
were needed, to put the church on a secure foundation ; but 
for this comparatively small amount appeals for help were 
made in every direction in vain. "I was born and bred a 
Presbyterian," writes one, " but I can never have much love 
for the denomination, because I am well satisfied that had 
but a few of its leading members extended toward you the 
true friendship of Christianity when you were in our midst, 
you still would be, where you ought to be at this moment, 
at the head of a much-loved people here. We asked but lit- 
tle, a very trifle, from them beyond their sympathy ; a very 
trifling pecuniary aid was needed ; but this, in the hour of 
our trial, was refused." Mr. Todd also writes : " Kind and 
plain intimations have been thrown out that if I and my 
late people will become Presbyterians, there will be no lack 
of funds. My determination is unwavering, that I can not 
sell my principles." 

The course pursued by the Presbyterians must not, how- 
ever, be judged too harshly. It was questionable, and Mr. 
Todd himself, in after-years, doubted whether it was desir- 
able for a new denomination to force itself into a field al- 
ready well occupied by one differing from it only in polity, 
and better suited than itself to the genius of the people. 
The Presbyterians, naturally, felt under little obligation to 
assist an institution whose very existence was a standing 
protest against their own system, and whose growth would 



312 JOHN TODD. 

threaten it. A great deal of ill-feeling, too, had been un- 
necessarily excited ; for though Mr. Todd had shown no 
controversial or proselyting spirit, some- of his people had 
been very bitter and exasperating in their language. And 
not unlikely, if Mr. Todd found his ministerial brethren un- 
sympathetic, there was another side to the story, and his 
native pride and Congregational independence had, especially 
in the full tide of success, and then still more in the ebb, re- 
pelled rather than invited sympathy. From Congregation- 
alists in New England, to whom, also, vain appeals for help 
were made, more might reasonably have been expected. 
But it is the vice of Congregationalism, that in it every 
man's hand is against his brother. Its traditional short- 
sighted policy prevailed; and, for want of five thousand dol- 
lars, Congregationalism allowed a position to be lost which 
is not yet regained, and will not be in half a century. 

The necessity of abandoning their undertaking was a 
heavy blow to the devoted pastor and flock. " I have never 
witnessed such agony, such efforts, and such weepings, as 
among my afflicted flock. I have labored unweariedly, have 
gone without my salary, have bought money at eleven per 
cent, to give my family bread. I have endured reproach, 
and slander, and malice — I trust, in meekness — in the hope 
that a New England church would be suffered to stand and 
live here. But I can do no more." It was a long time be- 
fore his sore and aching heart ceased to feel the smart. 
From Pittsfield he wrote : " I suppose that my church is 
stripped, and sacked, and sold ! I protest before God that 
Zhave not done it. When I think how I watched it as it 
went up and was completed — when I think of the organ, the 
pulpit, the dedication — I am almost frantic. I thank God I 
am not there !" 

There was one thing, however, which he saved from the 
wreck, entire — his character. His enemies had not been 
able to destroy it. Two of the most bitter and determined 
of them, of their own accord, sought in after-years, and re- 
ceived, his forgiveness. In the community generally he 
stood above reproach. 

" December 28th. 

"I never had half the influence in and through the city 
which I have this winter. I have four public lectures this 



LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 313 

week out of ray own church, and more were entreated. The 
thing which gives me the most comfort in all this is, that 
this whole community feel that the failure of Congregation- 
alism here is not my fault; and that, in all the wars and 
fightings which I have had, I have not suffered in character 
in the least. This is a consolation." 

Many of the leading Presbyterian ministers were desirous 
that he should remain in the city as a Presbyterian ; and 
several years afterward, when an opportunity was offered 
him to return, were earnest in their wishes that he would 
embrace . it ; but his steadfastness to his Congregational 
principles, with, perhaps, a Wace of pride and of bitter recol- 
lection, and subsequently an interest in another people, for- 
bade it. 

His own faithful flock stood by him and clung to him to 
the last. In the churches among which they were event- 
ually scattered, their conspicuous Christian character and 
activity have been a standing witness of the influence and 
power of his ministry among them. Whenever he preached 
in the city, even down to within a month of his last sick- 
ness, they gathered around him with touching affection, and 
tender memories of the time when they parted from him 
with many tears, and prayers, " that the patience and firm- 
ness with which you have encountered the extraordinary 
trials attending your ministerial charge in this city, the 
meekness with which you have borne persecution, and your 
various and unwearied labors in the cause of the Saviour, 
may find their reward in the Holy Spirit's blessing upon 
your future exertions, in your own peace of mind and in 
the everlasting bliss of heaven." 



314 JOHN TODL. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 

A great Change.— Pittsfield as it Was.— Every thing Strange.— Immersion 
under Difficulties.— Jack Frost in the Pulpit.— The old Church.— A great 
People.— Discouragements.— Revival.— A cheerful World.— Installation.— 
The Stake vs. Gnats. — In the Parsonage. — A stormy Night. — "You're 
burning up." — " Where are the Children ?" — All over. — A Home gone. — 
"All I have left." — A dark Cloud.— All Kindness. — Trips to Philadelphia. 
— In the old Pulpit. — A mere Dream. — A Town awed. — The Inquiry- 
meeting. — "I'm your own Mary." — Deep Waters. — Hope. — A cold Snap. 
—Evil Tidings.— A great-souled Brother.— Cut down Trunk and Branches. 
—Ministers taught. — The clouded Mind clear at last. — "No more than 
my Duty." 

The change which Mr. Todd made in going from Phila- 
delphia to Pittsfield was an important one. It was a change 
from a great city to a small mountain town, from a com- 
mercial to a farming and manufacturing community, from a 
quiet and easy to an active and restless people, from a mild 
to a keen intellectual atmosphere, from a genial climate to 
the rigors of an almost Canadian winter. But it was more 
than this. Hitherto his course had been aggressive and 
constructive. In every place he had been called to assail 
the old and established order of things, to pull down walls 
which had long been reared, and with the materials so gath- 
ered to build anew. Three large new churches attested his 
power as a progressive. He was now for the first time 
transferred to an old and established church, where his duty- 
was not to attack, but to defend, existing things; not to rev- 
olutionize, but to conserve; not to draw upon the strength 
of other churches, but to maintain strength upon which oth- 
ers were constantly drawing. It was now to be seen wheth- 
er he could manage the inertia and fixedness and prejudices 
of an old church as well as he could the ardor and activity 
of a new one ; whether he could lose with as much grace as 
he could gain from others a colony ; whether he could pre- 
vent or repair, as well as he could create, a waste. The re- 
sult proved that, in assuming the care of the First Church 




THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, PITTSEIELD. MASSACHUSETTS. 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 315 

in Pittsfield, he was for the first time placed in such a con- 
servative position as, despite his success in other relations, 
he was really best fitted for by his natural tastes and talents. 

Pittsfield was then a town of less than four thousand in- 
habitants, situated near the middle of the valley of the up- 
per Housatonic, with numerous small factories strung along 
its slender streams. The central village was on a broad 
elevation, from which its four wide streets, radiating toward 
the four points of the compass, and lined with ancient 
maples, descended on every side. At their junction was a 
small oval park, surrounded by a dilapidated fence, and 
having in its centre an immensely tall elm, the last relic of 
the primeval forest. On all sides of the village, at a few 
miles' distance, rose densely wooded mountains, whose out- 
lines were beautiful even in winter, and whose various forms 
and colors in spring and autumn made the scenery of the 
region surpassingly beautiful. But all the beauties of the 
place were buried, at the time of Mr. Todd's arrival, under 
the snows of an unusually severe Berkshire winter. " Ev- 
ery thing seems strange to me here. It seems strange to 
see the mountains all around me covered with snow. It 
seems strange not to be able to leave the stove for half an 
hour without having all the fire burned out and the room 
cold. It seems strange to find the water frozen in your 
room, though you make up a hot fire at ten o'clock, and get 
up at four. It seems strange to go to meeting when the 
thermometer is six below zero, and stranger still to see the 
Baptists go down to the river and baptize seven, when the 
thermometer is six below zero, and a man has to stand with 
a rake and keep the pool from freezing over ! Last Sabbath 
you might have seen the richest man in town going to 
church with a huge buffalo -robe under his arm, which he 
used in his pew ; and I actually had my toes touched with 
frost in the pulpit." 

Fronting the little oval park by the side of the old town- 
hall, which thirty years more have not yet improved, stood 
the long, cupola-crowned white frame meeting-house of the 
First Church — an object of great admiration to its original 
builders, but somewhat the worse for wear, and presenting 
a strange contrast with the new and elegant edifice which 
the pastor had just left. In the interior, low galleries ran 

21 



316 JOHN TODD. 

around three sides, one of them being appropriated by men, 
the opposite one by women, and the middle one by the choir, 
who were not crowded by an organ ; in the back corners, 
under the galleries, lingered two or three box-pews claimed 
by some of the older families ; along the fronts of the gal- 
leries ran interminable stove-pipes, which dripped pyrolig- 
neous acid abundantly on the well-stained carpets, but dif- 
fused little heat; behind the lofty pulpit, a supposed win- 
dow was concealed by faded and dingy crimson tapestry. 
But the cheery disposition of the new pastor, determined to 
look on the brightest side of every thing, found something- 
even here to approve. "The church has a good bell, a very 
good town-clock on it, and a good clock inside, on the gal- 
lery, fronting the pulpit." In his new people he found much 
greater cause for satisfaction. " It is a great, rich, proud, 
enlightened, powerful people. They move slowly, but they 
tread like the elephant. They are cool, but kind, sincere, 
great at hearing, and very critical. I have never had an 
audience who heard so critically. There is ten times more 
intellect that is cultivated than we have ever had before. 
You would be surprised to see how much they read. The 
ladies are most abundant, intelligent, refined, and kind. A 
wider, better, harder, or more interesting field no man need 
desire. It is large enough to task the powers of any man, re- 
sponsible enough to make him tremble, and desirable enough 
to satisfy his most fastidious wishes." It was, however, in a 
poor condition in many respects. " The Sabbath-school has 
sadly gone to decay, the monthly concert is all down, and 
the sympathies of the out-districts are all dried up : these 
three points demand my immediate attention." The only 
lecture-room was the upper story of an old church which 
had been built and abandoned many years before by an un- 
successful colony, and it was dirty, cold, and ill-lighted, and 
was rented as a hall to every traveling troupe or show- 
man. The society was burdened with a debt over which it 
groaned, and which hung like a small millstone about its 
neck, and owed for the very oil burned in evening meetings. 
It is not strange that in the face of such discouragements, 
and alone among strangers, and with such painful disap- 
pointments fresh in his memory, the new pastor had some 
hours of despondency. "I do lament most deeply that I 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 317 

come here as I do, with spirits broken and crushed, the feel- 
ings wounded and lacerated, the hopes cut off, and the day- 
light of the heart shrouded in the darkness of disappoint- 
ment. I am all alone, and lonely too, and feel it most keen- 
ly. I have sometimes had great fears lest my own reason 
should follow that of my mother, especially since our trou- 
bles ; but God has been merciful hitherto. I try to feel and 
keep cheerful, but I want my family around me." As if to 
divert him from such thoughts, and to encourage him, it hap- 
pened providentially that at the very time of his arrival 
there was an unusual religious interest among his people ; 
a*nd, even before his installation, he was taken up with the 
labors and tender anxieties of a revival. " When I reached 
this place I found some unusual attention in the Sabbath- 
school, and immediately took measures to meet such of the 
children as professed to be anxious. There were fifty who 
came. Thinking that many might have come through curi- 
osity, I tried to sift them, and to have none come the next 
week except those who were really anxious. There were 
fifty-seven at the second meeting. I do not think that all 
these are impressed, but as many as twenty are expressing 
a hope of salvation." Amidst such labors, his naturally elas- 
tic spirit soon recovered its tone, and he began to take an 
interest in his new work. " I am not much acquainted with 
this people as yet, and feel unable to attempt any movement 
at present ; but if they do not do a thing or two by-and-by 
I am no prophet. I think I should at once enter into my 
work, and enjoy preaching once more, if I had my family 
here, and had done with Philadelphia. I am putting levers 
under the ship as fast as it will do. If the past could be 
blotted out, I should be perfectly happy here with you and 
my family. The mountain air is free and sweet. The diffi- 
culty with your health is nervous excitement, worry of mind. 
It has eaten us up, and the sooner you get away, the better. 
You need rest, and to see a community upon whom the 
blasts of ruin are not constantly falling. This is a cheerful 
world here compared with what it is where you are, and I 
rejoice to say that I begin again to take comfort in preach- 
ing: it begins to seem as it once did. No inducement could 
get me back to Philadelphia. May the Lord forgive me 
that I ever provoked him by going once." 



318 JOHN TODD. 

The installation took place on the 16th of February, Dr. 
Shepard preaching the sermon. In his inaugural sermon, 
the new pastor, who had heard something of the difficulties 
of his predecessors, took occasion to say that he wished his 
people would not come and tell him every little criticism or 
complaint that they heard, or what this and that one said or 
felt ; if they wished to kill him, he would prefer being taken 
to the park, in front of the church, and burned at the stake 
to being stung to death by gnats. The hint gave consider- 
able offense at the time, but it was effectual. 

Early in the spring he returned to Philadelphia for his 
family, and after a few weeks of boarding they were all at 
last quietly established in the old parsonage, and another 
attempt was made to make something of the stony garden, 
which successive pastors had abandoned in despair. 

"April 29th. 

"We have got into our new house, and, as usual, every 
thing was down at the heel. I have whitewashed, and 
painted, and papered, till it seemed impossible ever to get 
through. Then the fences and barns were all in ruins. We 
have had a day of visiting: not less than three hundred, and 
probably not less than four hundred, came ; and they all had 
to be teaed and coffeed. We had provisions enough sent in, 
and the ladies came in and did all the work; but it was a 
day of fatigue, as Mrs. Todd and the baby could well testify. 
I have a young ladies' Bible -class, and have one hundred 
and fourteen members. It is very sickly, and we have a fu- 
neral almost every day, and yet there is no particular dis- 
ease. Death comes in every shape and direction. Is it not 
a marvel how depravity came to be introduced into the king- 
dom of God ? I believe this will long be a inystery, notwith- 
standing all that Dr. Taylor has written on the subject." 

The year was quietly spent in cultivating the acquaint- 
ance of his people, and in prosecuting various literary la- 
bors, for all which his accumulations of written sermons af- 
forded him ample leisure. But at the beginning of winter 
an event occurred which at once drew his people around 
him, and compelled him again to go to work at making ser- 
mons. In this light it was, though terrible at the time, the 
best thing, probably, that could have happened to him. It 
was the Sunday after Thanksgiving, the last Sunday in No- 




DOCTOR TODD'S RESIDENCE. 

Parsonage of First Congregational Society, Pittsfield, Massachusetts 



LIFE AT P1TTSFIELD. 319 

vember, an intolerably cold and fiercely windy day, when, at 
ten o'clock at night, he sat down to write a few words to his 
father-in-law. 

"November 27th. 

" Dear Parents, — You may thank that Providence who 
sends an indescribable storm this evening, which keeps me 
from my usual lecture, if this scrawl shall afford you any 
satisfaction. It is now blowing and snowing here, just as 
it did last February, the day after ray installation. I have 
just returned from the thirty-sixth funeral I have attended 
since my installation ! All my associations with Pittsfield 

are connected with sicknesses and deaths I have work 

on hand enough for five honest men, and yet seem to accom- 
plish but little. I have a lecture, delivered here before the 
young men, in press; and then, my cattle-show address in 
press, and an introduction to H. K. White's works in press 
in Philadelphia (for a suit of clothes), and some dozen other 
irons in the fire — all of no consequence, and yet all taking 
time and labor and thought. It is also a hard time for 
money ; and I find it exceedingly difficult to get the what- 
nots for a family of eleven persons, constantly, without 
means. But we all have good health so far. I am quid- 
dling with sermons and other things, and think, on the whole, 
life will run away, and I shall do nothing. They have sent 
for me to deliver two lectures in Philadelphia, and one in 
New York. I thank Heaven I can do as I please now about 
such things. All send love, and hope the wind blows more 
softly with you. Yours ever, operose nihil agendo." 

What occurred within the next four hours is best described 
in the following letter, written a few days afterward : 

"My dear Sisters, — What would we not give to be near 
you now ! Sabbath last was one of our most severe and aw- 
ful wintry days. In the evening the winds were fearful. 
We went to bed after eleven, afraid of the fierce winds. Be- 
tween three and four o'clock we were aroused by the pecul- 
iar, agonized shriek of a woman at the door, 'You are burn- 
ing ! you are burning up !' I sprung from my bed, and groped 
my way upstairs to my study in the dark and in the smoke, 
to get a match to kindle a lamp. I came back, put on my 
boots and pantaloons, tying the suspenders around me, and 
throwing away my drawers in haste. Thus equipped, I 



320 JOHN TODD. 

was ready. I first screamed for my family to come to me, 
then ran to the front door and screamed, ' Fire ! fire !' Mrs. 
Todd gathered the three babies into one bed, in their night- 
clothes, and thus the men, whose loud shouts were now heard, 
snatched them up and carried them out. For five minutes 
it was doubtful whether I could get my family out alive. 
Then the shouts were heard,' Mr. Brace is left !' ' Little John 
is left !' ' Where are the children ? for heaven's sake, get 
them out !' The roof had begun to fall in. As soon as the 
children were safe, I made for my study, now sheeted with 
flames, and began to throw from the windows, which I first 
dashed out with my foot. Out went the books, pell-mell, into 
the snow and soot ; out, out, out, went tables, and bureaus, 
and wardrobes, and every thing. As soon as the study was 
cleared as much as it could be, I made for Mr. Brace's room, 
and pitched out his books, and down they went, and after 
them went tables, and bedsteads, and globes, and secretaries, 
etc. I stood there till nearly surrounded with flames, and till 
every thing was out. In the mean time the scene was fear- 
ful. It was intensely cold, the wind was high, and, oh, the 
bright flashes of the fire as it leaped and licked through the 
chambers, the wild cry of the men, the crash and crush and 
smash of furniture, the roar of the fire, the foiling of timbers, 
the shouting of maddened men in the background ! But on 
it went, smash, crash, till it was all over. It seemed as if the 
sun would never rise ; but when it did rise, what a scene ! 
The streets filled with furniture, broken and destroyed, car- 
pets half burned, china in fragments, my beautiful home in 
ashes, and my children and wife somewhere, but I knew not 
where. Here I stood over the burning mass, with a family 
of eleven hanging on me, my home and my all gone ! What 
a sensation ! I knew that three-fourths of my manuscripts 
were gone, all our trunks and linen, and much clothing, my 
library of one thousand volumes nearly destroyed, all my 
valuable papers, including some nearly ready for publica- 
tion, all the correspondence of my life — all, all, gone forever! 
But I knew that, had we slept five minutes longer, Mr. Brace 
had been no more, and that the joyous laugh of my only son 
had been quenched forever, and I felt resigned that all the 
rest should go — it was nothing. You can not, however, con- 
ceive of my distress. ' You are in good spirits, and we re- 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 321 

joice to see it, Mr. Todd,' said many. ' Yes, it is all I have 
left, sir,' was my reply. ' But now, O Lord, thou art our 
Father; we are the clay, and thou our potter.' 'It is the 
Lord, let him do what seemeth good in his sight.' My peo- 
ple have been kind beyond expression. The ladies are try- 
ing to make Mrs. Todd and the children comfortable. In 
three hours after the fire they had procured us another beau- 
tiful home, had hired the family to move out of it, had moved 
the family out, and by dark had the fragments of our fine 
furniture in it. I suppose that twelve hundred dollars would 
probably not replace our losses, to say nothing about the 
house. But the Lord has been gracious to us beyond all 
that we deserve. This is a dark cloud sweeping across our 
path. May it be sanctified to us all !" 

The story of the disaster awakened great sympathy not 
only among Mr. Todd's people, but in the places where he 
had been previously settled, and brought him many tokens 
of it. 

"December 26th. 

" Our people here have been all kindness, and we have re- 
ceived many gifts from all sources. The year has been a 
heavy one to me : our moving, our losses at Philadelphia, 
the fire — and yet we are alive, and the head is yet out of the 
water. How it has been done is more than I can say ; but, 
somehow or other, I have paid a great amount of money in 
1842, and yet I am not so much in debt as I was a year ago. 
The Lord has given it in as needed, and that is all that I can 
say. 

"P.S.— The twelfth turkey has just arrived." 

A few days after this, Mr. Todd returned to Philadelphia, 
to deliver his promised lecture. It was his first visit since 
his removal. 

" January 6th, 1843. 

"It seemed strange to tread those unchanged streets 
again. All the past six years came rushing in upon the 
memory most bitterly; but a few scalding tears gave great 
relief. The providence, so dark when I left, is still equally 
dark. I saw but few of my friends till my lecture, Thursday 
evening : then they came around, with tears and smiles and 
sobbings. I never had such a reception. The great church 
(Central Presbyterian) was crowded; over three thousand 



322 JOHN TODD. 

tickets had been taken. My lecture was well received, and 
it was after it that iny poor flock came from all quarters to 
greet me. I never saw any thing like it. Every night I met 
them at some one of their houses. The first evening there 
were sixty present, and so every evening till the last, when 
over one hundred came to spend the evening with me. Ev- 
ery evening was closed with tears, singing, and prayer. On 
the Sabbath, I preached in the morning for Mr. Patton, at noon 
visited my oion Sabbath-school, in the afternoon preached for 
Mr. Rood, and in the evening (would you think it?) in my 
old church and pulpit, the house that you and I so solemnly 
dedicated to God ! I felt as if I could not do it, but thought 
it best to show that I had no resentments. The house was 
piled up full, and more than full. I preached with a bosom 
boiling over with emotion, but outwardly as calm as if in my 
own study. It was a wonderful hour. My text was Reve- 
lation, xix., 6. If I had not derived consolation from my own 
sermon, I do not believe I could have got through with it. 
It seemed, as I stood there between the pillars in my own 
pulpit, with my hand on the Bible, with Kingsley at the 
organ — it all seemed a dream, a mere dream ; and I never 
before so clearly realized that life is but a dream. Thank 
God, I lived through it ! 

"While I was gone, my church visited all the church mem- 
bers. The visit had done great good. On the Sabbath the 
congregation was very solemn. In the evening there were 
solemn inquiries. The Spirit of God has been with us. The 
whole town is awed. I have seen as many as fifty anxious 
ones. Some of these are trembling in hope. Among others, 
we do hope our dear Mary may be numbered. She is won- 
derfully altered ; but God only knows the heart. We hope 
and pray that we are to have a great work of God here. 

"I am thinking of a Sabbath evening when, with much 
trembling, I ventured to appoint an inquiry-meeting, as it 
seemed to me the Spirit of the Lord was among my people. 
In a dimly lighted room I met them, and, to my amaze- 
ment, there were over thirty. I am thinking how I went 
up to a little girl who sat by herself, weeping bitterty. Her 
head was down. I said, ' My little one, do you so feel your 
sins that you feel the need of a Saviour?' 'I do, oh, I do !' 
' Whose little girl are you ?' i Why, father ! I'm your own 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 323 

Mary!' My blood seemed to curdle cold in my heart. None 
but a father situated just as I was can know my feelings. 
For weeks she remained in great distress of mind, and lay 
like a little boat rocked in the storm, with no pilot to guide 
her into the harbor. I waded into the deep waters to reach 
and save my child, but my arm was too short. But I saw 
her led forth by a hand mightier than mine, and I followed 
after to see her come to land and sing of salvation on the 
shore. Hope gradually poured her warm, soft light into the 
soul, and darkness and distress were gone. The child re- 
ceived the kingdom of heaven as a little child, and from that 
hour religion became interwoven into her character." 

The revival resulted in between eighty and ninety hope- 
ful conversions. After it was over the overworked pastor 
felt, as always, the reaction of so much anxiety and excite- 
ment. 

"June 1st. 

"I have a body full of ills and aches, and an oppression of 
spirits that is any thing but desirable. I trust it is, in part 
at least, from the body ; I sometimes fear it is inherited. I 

shudder at my own thoughts at times It is so cold here 

that we are all blue. People have to sit up nights, because 
they have no bedclothes, having used them all up in cover- 
ing up gardens, currant-bushes, etc. As for me, I have said 
to my garden, ' Go to the dogs !' and it is going there, or 
somewhere else, fast. People are putting up the stoves 
again in their parlors. We keep four great fires, and should 
have one or two more if John were here to bring in wood. 

It is a fortnight and two days since winter set in I am 

overrun with ' agents ' from the West — poor, impudent, and 
saucy. I have always been sorry that my rifle was burned 
up." 

Near the close of this year, Mr. Todd received a letter 
from a minister in Illinois which kindly and gently broke to 
him tidings which completely overwhelmed him. "I sat 
down in astonishment and tears, and it was some days be- 
fore I could lift up my head." His brother Jonathan had 
always been the favorite one, as he was the best known to 
him, of all his brothers and sisters. "There was no human 
being on earth, previous to my marriage, whom I loved as I 
did that brother. We were boys and orphans together. The 



324 JOHN TODD. 

highest luxury which we ever knew was to meet each other. 
He was, from boyhood, a great-souled creature, and I never 
knew him to do a thing unworthy of himself. I knew him 
more thoroughly than any other one, and I never knew a 
more noble-hearted, man. He never had a good example, or 
kind or judicious training in childhood, and my wonder has 
always been that his defects as a man were not much more 
prominent and marked." This brother had removed, with 
his large and fine family, from St. Albans, Vermont, where 
he had first settled, to Illinois, where, having no acquaint- 
ance with localities, he had bought a farm in about as un- 
healthy a region as he could have found. The letter re- 
ferred to detailed the terrible consequences, which were an- 
nounced by Mr. Todd to his only remaining brother, in the 
following terms : 

" November 27th. 
"Are you prepared to weep with those who weep ? Are 
you ready to hear any tidings which God may send you, 
however astounding? Can you read a scroll like that of 
the prophet written within and without with lamentation 
and woe ? Come then, let us weep together. I can hardly 
realize the tale of woe which I am about to write. May 
God give you strength to bear it. On the 16th of Septem- 
ber, my namesake, John Todd, aged eighteen, was called 
into eternity. He was a noble fellow, and they feel that he 
died in the Lord, and will rise again with the just. This 
death made a very deep impression on the whole family. 
In three weeks after the death of John, William, aged fifteen, 
was taken sick. Hopes were entertained that he would re- 
cover, but the disease grew violent. He was, as they think, 
prepared to go. Just before his departure, he called his 
mother and brothers and sisters, and bade them a most af- 
fectionate farewell, saying that he was going to heaven, and 
then calmly passed away. His death was so gentle, that his 
mother felt that he had fallen into a sweet sleep. Oh that 
I could stop here, and say to you, ' My tale is done !' But, 
alas ! the heaviest part is yet to come. On the same day 
that William was taken sick, Jonathan himself was taken, 
and lay prostrate in the same room, within a few feet of his 
son when he died. There he lay, our brother, our own dear 
Jonathan. Did we not love him? Was he not worthy of 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 325 

our love ? As we look back to the days of boyhood, do we 
not see that we had cause to love him? and does it seem 
possible that he is gone, and we shall see him no more ? It 
is so — Jonathan Todd, our own dear brother, is dead ! From 
his being taken down, he was confident that he should not 
recover. He was disposed constantly to consider himself 
as unworthy, unfaithful, and deficient in Christian duty, 
while at the same time he admired and indorsed and won- 
dered at the goodness of God toward him. He told his pas- 
tor he could not give up his hope. ' Oh no,' said he, with an 
emphasis peculiarly solemn, c I can not, I can not give up my 
hope !' This hope, which had been an anchor to his soul in 
the storms and conflicts of life, was now bright, enduring, 
and strong. And he has passed away from us forever. 
Even now, my dear brother, I have not told all. When 
Jonathan was dying, Timothy, the eldest son, was also sick, 
and in a few days he also was called to die. He gave de- 
lightful evidence of being a Christian. His views were 
deep, clear, and Scriptural. He went up, after the others, 
on the 24th of October, aged about twenty. He had a strong 
desire to live for the sake of his mother, but told her that 
God would take care of her without him. Thus, in one short 
month, the trunk of the tree, and the beautiful branches, 
have been cut down and withered. They all sleep side by 
side in a lonely spot on the farm, till the archangel's trump- 
et shall call them to come forth. Sweet memories w T ill 
long cluster around that lonely spot, where the four have 
gone to lie side by side. What a tale of sorrow is this ! The 

tidings came to me like a thunderbolt, and I have been sick 

. t 

ever since I received the letter." 

To his father-in-law, whose youngest son was very sick at 
the time, he wrote, a few days later : 

" We must bow, and be still, and trust in God. He is 
wise, and holy, and good, though he does not order things 
as we could wish. It was needful for Christ to be tempted 
in all points like unto his brethren, and it seems necessary 
that his ministers should also pass through all the scenes 
through which our people pass, and that they should see us 
practice the resignation which we teach them to practice. 
How could they know that we should not falter on this 
point, if they never saw us tried ? I have waded deep in 



326 JOHN TODD. 

affliction lately, and the more deeply that my friends were 
all strangers to my family, and I had no one to know what 
I lost. You are now passing through the waters. Oh, how 
many of our parishioners have we seen pass through the 
same ! Let us commit all to our covenant God. He knows 
what is best." 

Close upon the tidings of the death of his brother and his 
sons, came the intelligence that his aged, unfortunate mother 
was at last released from a world in which she had been be- 
wildered for half a century. The conduct of Mr. Todd to- 
ward this unhappy mother was one of the most remarkable 
and characteristic things in his history. She had never been 
a mother to him; even in his childhood he had never re- 
ceived from her any motherly caresses : in after-years she 
had never recognized him. And yet, from the moment that 
he began to earn a livelihood, he devoted himself to the care 
of this mother, taking her from the poor-house, and hiring 
for her a comfortable home and the best of attention, fre- 
quently visiting her, to see that she was properly cared for, 
and exercising through others a constant supervision over 
her. With all his large family and great expenses, even in 
the hardest times, when his salary was unpaid for months, 
and money could only be obtained at an enormous premium, 
he never failed to send his remittance for his mother at the 
appointed time. When other resources failed, he seized his 
pen, and wrote at night, and became an author, solely for the 
sake of obtaining money for his mother. And when, in her 
extreme age and feebleness, she required extraordinary care, 
he furnished cheerfully every thing that was needed, till the 
modest headstone was set up at her grave. It was, of course, 
impossible to mourn the loss of such a mother as a different 
kind of mother would have been lamented. Yet the son 
writes: "Though my poor mother never knew me, yet I 
have a sense of loneliness which I did not expect." Those 
who were acquainted with all the circumstances of the case 
sympathized with the minister, and almost brother, who had 
watched over the unfortunate woman, and followed her to 
the grave, in the feelings which he could not help expressing 
to the son : " If I were to specify that in your life which I 
most admire, it would not be your untiring industry, your 
unyielding perseverance, no, nor even the best productions 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 327 

of your pen, but — your kindness to your mother. Those I 
have admired, but in this I have seen the heart of an affec- 
tionate son, and I love you for it !" The son himself, how- 
ever, with characteristic humility and conscientiousness, saw 
nothing remarkable in what he had done. " I have for years 
felt that so long as she lived my life was safe; for I trusted 
that God would not cut me off and leave that helpless creat- 
ure friendless. I have expended over two thousand dollars 
for her, but I count it nothing, nothing at all, in comparison 
with the satisfaction I have in view of the past. I praise 
God that I have had the privilege of taking care of her so 
long. Others have commended me for it, but I feel that I 
deserve no commendation. I have done no more than I 
should hope a child w T ould do for me, and no more than my 
duty." 



328 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER XXIY. 

life at pittsfield — continued. 

A new Parsonage. — Not much to Do. — Berkshire Jubilee. — A Book-seller.— 
Samuel. — Revival. — The Farm. — Desire for a Home. — Great Preparations. 
— The lame Boy's Wedding, Sickness, and Death. — Death of Doctor Shep- 
ard. — Chronicles. — The new Lecture- room. — A good Fight. — D.D. — 
Beautiful Gardens. — Six Towels. — A remarkable President. — Fanny For- 
rester. — The sick Baby. — Physicians Baffled. — Still with us. — Lent to the 
Lord. — A great Vacancy. — An Epitaph. — Wonderful Work. — The Spirit 
here. — Three Times in a Fortnight. — King's Sons. 

In less than a year after the burning of the parsonage, it 
was rebuilt and occupied. The planning of it was left en- 
tirely to the pastor, the only limitation, as to design, be- 
ing that it should conform to the old foundations, which re- 
mained uninjured. It w T as built in the cheapest manner, the 
original contract specifying thirteen hundred dollars as its 
cost. Various improvements and alterations have since been 
made in it, but none materially affecting its appearance. 
The growth of Pittsfield, however, has increased the value 
of the place twenty-fold. Here Doctor Todd lived for thirty 
years, till every room became associated for him with scenes 
of deepest interest, and the whole grew to be a part of his 
very existence. 

To Mrs. J. W. P . 

" March 4th, 1844. 
"We have got into our new house, and find it very con- 
venient and comfortable. Here w^e have been all winter. 
My people had bought the parsonage before I came, but had 
not paid even the interest on it. Then it was burned down, 
without insurance, and so they have been feeling amazingly 
poor; but I think they will live through it. As for me, I 
think (when I can get any thoughts), write till my wrist 
aches, visit the sick till I feel diseased, attend funerals till I 
feel mournful, and the rest of the time write sermons and 
books, and make bee-hives. I am now delivering a course 
of lectures to the young men ; and though you might think 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 329 

the subject exhausted, I actually find several things to say, 
and shall probably spin out my thoughts so as to make a 
book as large as any one will want to buy, and larger than 
any one will wish to read. I don't have much to do. Let 
me see : a parish of over two thousand souls, three sermons 
on the Sabbath, three services between Sabbaths, chairman 
of the school-committee and sixteen schools to take care of, 
a church of over six hundred members, over fifty funerals a 
year, letters, calls, visits, journeys, etc., to say nothing about 
authorship. I forgot a new and brilliant map to make for 
every monthly concert, and ten thousand other things too 
numerous to mention. I wish I had about seven acres of 
land, and then I verily believe I might contrive to fill up 
my time. I am popular when I do just as the people want 
to have me ; but when I touch their darling sins, they rear 
up, and threaten to fall over and crush the poor driver who 

sits on the box We rejoice to hear that you are well, 

and happy, and useful. And the baby ! Who would have 
thought ! Well, I wish him all good things except beauty. 
Having suffered so much myself in that way, I can not wish 
others to suffer thus." 

In the summer of 1844, there was held a great gathering 
of people of Berkshire County origin. It was called the 
Berkshire Jubilee ; and the hill, west of the village, on 
which it took place has ever since been called Jubilee Hill. 
From his position, and because of his energy and executive 
ability, Mr. Todd naturally had to shoulder a large share of 
the responsibility and labor of the undertaking, and was the 
cause of much of its success. Upon him also devolved the 
labor of preparing the history of the event, which he per- 
formed successfully, so far as the interest of the work was 
concerned, but with what pecuniary profit to himself will 
be seen from the following, written to his brother, the next 
spring : 

"I had set my heart on coming to see you this summer; 
and by extra sitting up nights last winter, making Jubilee 
books, and writing some other things, I had got a book- 
seller three hundred and sixty dollars in my debt, when, lo ! 
he failed and ran off, and I am left to stay at home. This 
is about the history of all the money I have tried to save. 
Within the twelve years past, I have lost over six thousand 

22 



330 JOHN TODD. 

dollars of money honestly and hardly earned. I believe that 
Providence intends me to be a poor man. But I have much, 
very much, to be thankful for and to be happy in." 

In the fall of this year occurred another of those domestic 
events which always gave him so much pleasure : 

" November 8th, 1844. 

"Dear Parents, — The Lord has been very gracious to 
us, and we want you to help us to praise his name. This 
morning our little boy was sent to us, a perfect, fair, and 
beautiful child, weighing over eleven pounds. You can 
hardly realize how much joy it gave us to have a son. Mrs. 
Todd at once pronounced his name Samuel — asked of the 
Lord." The name did not particularly please the family, 
and as the name of Samuel Walley, the father's old friend in 
Boston, was subsequently adopted, the little one was almost 
always called Walley. " The child is very quiet, fat, blue 
eyes, etc. I trust that He who creates mouths will not for- 
get to feed them. We have now only seven children. I 
wish they were a dozen. ' Blessed is the man who hath his 
quiver full of them.' " 

The spring of 1845 was marked by another revival of 
religion. There had been a tendency toward worldliness 
among the people during the winter, which grieved the pas- 
tor's heart ; and he came out with some sermons of great 
plainness and solemnity, and preached them, at first not 
without offense, but with decided effect. The conscience 
of the church was touched, and others were moved. "For 
three months back I have preached three times on the Sab- 
bath, and attended at least four meetings between Sabbaths. 
We have had many delightful conversions — forty, perhaps, 
among my own people, half of whom were boarders in Mr. 
Tyler's school." 

This spring was also marked by several less important 
but interesting events in the home circle. One of these 
was the purchase of a small farm, not far from the village. 
It was always the life-long desire of Mr. Todd to obtain a 
home of his own, where he could settle down and rest when 
the work of life was over. Very soon after going to Pitts- 
field, he found a large, unproductive field near the village 
which could be purchased for four hundred dollars. So 
strong w r as his desire to have a home, and so much faith had 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 331 

he in the future of Pitts-field, and the consequent safety, at 
least, of the investment, that he went to some of his parish- 
ioners and proposed to them to join him in the purchase, 
which he was unable to make alone. They felt, however, 
that they had " no money to invest in a cow-pasture." That 
ground is now intersected with several streets, and has 
many residences upon it, several of which are among the 
most beautiful and expensive in Pittsfield, and one of which 
is among the most elegant and costly in the State. The lit- 
tle farm was purchased in the hope of making it at some 
time the long-desired home, and many were the plans for 
building at " Wyalusing," with which its owner amused 
himself. When, after some years, the place was sold, his 
hopes were transferred to one building-spot after another; 
but they were never realized. Like the patriarchs of old, 
he all his life dwelt in tabernacles, always seeking, and never 
finding, a permanent home, and died, not having received the 
promise, but looking for it still, beyond the sunset. 

Other family events which occurred about the same time 
were the baptism of Walley, and the marriage of his lame 
brother, Joab. 

"April 17th. 

" Dear Parents, — As to your coming, it is our song, and 
our saying, and our doing, and our thinking. It will truly 
be an expensive business to us! Mrs. Todd has got at least 
two great new carpets on purpose, and a huge new bureau 
made, and a new window cut to let out the last rays of 
darkness ; and the children new dresses all around ; and for 
this event we are all preparing; Joab is going to be mar- 
ried to honor the visit ; our bees have a new yard ; our hens 
ditto, and the old hen is just getting out her chickens for 
the occasion ; Jenny thinks of having a calf ready ; and 
Violetta has made a whole barrel of soap, and it's all tum- 
ble and turn carpets, bed-quilts, dresses, etc., to get ready. 
Verily, if you don't find us all ready with cap in hand and 
our shoes brushed, then I don't know. Little Samuel ex- 
pects to be baptized, the Sabbath you are here, by his 
grandfather; and there is not a chick on the premises which 
does not look forward to the event as one of surpassing 
interest. From garret to cellar it is all overturn and get 
ready. The best of all invitations must be the scampering 



332 JOHN TODD. 

and scudding through the house to get ready. So don't 
feel that we don't write. We are so full of it, that we sup- 
pose, of course, you must- be. I forgot to say, too, that we 
are plastering with hard finish, and putting on new paper, 
and feel determined that folks who have a grand, nice 
" North Parlor," shall find that other folks can have such 
also. So come on, and see what a good visit it will be. 
You astonish us in talking about your ' garden.' We have 
snow-banks here, and most horribly cold weather — as disa- 
greeable as it can well be. Garden ! we sha'n't make or 
think of ours for weeks to come yet; we wear overshoes 
and great-coats, and should wear muffs, if we had them." 

Mr. Brace, whose approaching wedding is here referred to, 
had now been in Mr. Todd's family, " more like a son than 
a brother," for many years. In the preceding year he had 
" completed his studies in theology, and was licensed to 
preach the Gospel. His examination was thorough, and he 
acquitted himself so well that the association had the high- 
est hopes of him. He soon afterward preached to the desti- 
tute church in Lanesboro', a small town five miles north of 
Pittsfield, who shortly gave him a unanimous call to become 
their pastor. After much delay and many doubts, owing to 
another severe fit of sickness, he finally gave his consent to 
go to them. About nine months before his death, he was 
solemnly ordained to the work of Christ's ministry in Lanes- 
boro' ; and when, amidst a most fearful storm, we saw his 
feeble frame rise up to receive the ordaining hands, there 
were many tears, and a tide of sympathy moved. The father 
who preached at h|s ordination, and the old minister who 
charged him to be faithful, seemed to feel that it was doubt- 
ful how long ere he would have to give up his charge." Mr. 
Todd himself was more than doubtful. "I have never ex- 
pected that he would be able to preach, and I think the 
sooner his friends come to the same conclusion, the better." 

These fears were justified by the result. Only two or 
three months after his wedding, he was again taken severely 
sick. "But it was so like what we had seen him go through 
before, that neither he nor we were seriously alarmed, till a 
very short time before his death. He died Monday, Septem- 
ber 22d, and the week preceding I had ridden out with him 
three times. I watched with him alone, the night preced- 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 333 

ing his death. When it came upon him, he was surprised, 
but not overwhelmed. Twice during the struggles of death 
he asked me to pray. That glorious eye of his was never 
so illuminated, and the smile of his life hung upon his lips 
till death. Oh, how he bade us farewell, with a voice and 
look inexpressible ! Probably I shall never recall the scene 
without tears. At the last he died, as he had lived, like a 
child ; not a finger was straightened, nor a limb moved. We 
laid him among his own people, at Lanesboro', cut off on 
the threshold of life, of hope, and of usefulness. Few ever 
die so much beloved. He was a creature of the affections, 
and home was the place where his sensitive spirit rested. 
Since the revival here, two years ago, he has been a different 
man from ever before, more chastened, more subdued, and of 
deeper piety. He walked with God since that time. Often 
have we heard his voice of prayer in his room till midnight, 
and even till three o'clock in the morning ; and there was a 
tenderness, and a depth of emotion, in these, as he supposed, 
secret devotions seldom equaled. As all that we do and are 
will one day seem, it all seems like a dream to us. I myself 
have never felt a sorrow so deep or an affliction so severe. 
But we have unw T avering confidence that it is all right, and 
all good. He is better off than longer to dwell here in a 
body so frail." Months and years after this bereavement, 
even within a short time of his own death, Mr. Todd wrote : 
" I dream about him every night. Last night I walked with 
him, and he talked and leaned on my arm, just as he used to 
in the snow, only I thought he was heavier than ever before. 
Then I awake to tears." Such sorrows did not produce im- 
pressions upon him which were soon effaced ; but each of 
them left a deep, incurable, and always bleeding wound in 
his loving nature, till at last their increasing number almost 
drained his very life. Two other such (but lesser) sorrow's 
came near the close of the year. Mrs. Todd's youngest 
brother, John, who had been taken sick at his house, and 
over whom he had watched night and day, and who had al- 
ways been feeble, like his brother Joab, followed him into 
eternity. But he had been less intimately associated with 
Mr. Todd. Quite as great a loss to him was that of old 
Doctor Shepard, of Lenox, whose whole-souled piety and 
friendship, and hearty, cheerful manner, made him particu- 



334 JOHN TODD. 

larly congenial and beloved. Every day for more than a 
fortnight did Mr. Todd drive down in the intense cold over 
the crisp snow to take by the hand his, dying father and 
friend, and comfort him in the dreadful anguish of his terri- 
ble disease ; and when he came away for the last time, hav- 
ing laid the venerable form beneath the winter snows, he 
felt that there was a void in his circle of friendship which 
would never be filled. 

"And Samuel died, full of years and honors, and all the 
people lamented him ; and at his burial a great multitude 
mourned for him, as at the mourning of Hadad-rimmon, in 
the valley of Megiddon. Albeit Tertius, of the nether val- 
ley, was wroth, and his countenance changed; for he supposed 
that it was he who was to stand up and speak to the people 
at the grave of Samuel. 

"And it came to pass that when Samuel was buried, the 
people said, i Lo, we are now as sheep without a shepherd ; 
there is no man to go in and out before us, to teach us 
the good way of the Lord, and to lead our little ones in the 
right path. Let us come together and see if the Lord will 
give us one heart and one mind?' And when they were 
come together in the house of their fathers' God, and when 
they saw the sackcloth which was spread over the mercy- 
seat, and over the table of show-bread, and the seat of the 
man of God empty, their hearts melted together, and their 
eyes ran down with tears. Then said they, 'Behold, our 
beautiful house is desolate ; for the godly man ceaseth, and 
the faithful faileth, from among the children of men. Who 
will show us any good?' 

"Then answered John the rabbi, and said, 'Was not 
Samuel our shepherd and guide ? and are not the sons in- 
stead of the fathers? Let us look to Samuel the younger, 
and put him in the place of the elder, and make him to rule 
over us in the Lord; so shall we be fed.' And there was a 
good spirit upon them ; and they felt joy in their grief. 

" But it came to pass that at the self-same time there was 
an evil spirit abroad ; and he stirred up men of Belial, even 
six men, who lifted up their voice, and said, ' Ye men of Ox- 
nel, why are ye so hasty? why do ye seek to put a yoke 
upon our necks, which neither we nor our children can bear? 
Was such a thing ever told us, in the days of our fathers, 



LIFE AT PITTS FIELD. 335 

that a prophet's seat was filled ere the Lord be waited for 
and he raise up a prophet? What do ye? Ye grind the 
people of the Lord, in that ye do not tarry. Lo, \ve will lift 
up our voice like a trumpet, and cause our chidings to be 
heard afar, so that the ears of our neighbors shall tingle.' 

"And these men of Belial cried even as the wolf crieth on 
the mountains, in so many voices that it seemeth the voices 
of many wolves. And the people forbore for a time, and 
went to their homes sad; for their heart was set on Samuel 
the younger; and, moreover, they remembered these same 
voices of the men, even of the six, in the days of the great 
smoke, when the land was scorched, and the earth was 
shaken. So they rested for a few days, to see what the 
hand of the Lord would do for them. And the old judge 
mourned, and the scribes were sad, and John the rabbi 
waxed red of countenance, and was moved in spirit ; but 
they all held their peace, and said, each man in his heart, 
'Let us tarry a little; peradventure a better day shall soon 
come, and we will then prevail, and these men of Belial shall 
no more vex the people.' And so they went every man to 
his house, the six sons of Perverseness, crying out, 'Give us 
Heman the elder! give us Heman the elder!' But there 
was no voice to answer; for the snows of the Lord were 
upon the mountains, and Echo was unable to stand before 
his cold." 

"March 10th. 

"It is terrible getting about here; the snows and the 
drifts are so deep, and yet so soft, that it is almost impossi- 
ble to move. We have had just one hundred days of unin- 
terrupted sleighing this day ! Our new lecture-room is done, 
painted inside and out — convenient, beautiful, and attractive. 
It has its stoves, seats all painted, aisles all carpeted, and 
the pulpit is a perfect gem. We have dedicated it, and en- 
joy it very much." The building of this lecture-room was 
occasioned by a characteristic action on the part of the pas- 
tor. He had urged his people, from the first, to secure some 
more suitable place for their meetings than the dirty old 
hall, which was used for every conceivable purpose, but they 
were slow to move, and felt too poor. At last a traveling 
theatrical company came along and engaged the hall for two 
nights, one before and the other after the evening on which 



336 JOHN TODD. 

it was occupied by the church. Having set up their stage 
and scenery, they refused to take it down again, as they 
thought that the minister could just as well preach from 
their stage as from the pulpit. This Mr. Todd declined to do ; 
and, when urged by some of his own people, finally declared 
that not only would he not preach from that stage, but he 
would never again attend a religious meeting in that dese- 
crated place. This resolute stand led to the immediate con- 
struction of a new lecture-room. Some time afterward, a 
friend, congratulating him on the result, said, "You 'fought 
a good fight."' "Yes," he instantly replied, "and I 'kept 
the faith,' and came very near finishing my course." 

"April 30th. 

"We have our new organ up, and it makes trouble, of 
course. Was there ever a movement among singers that 
did not. Mary and John and Rollo have gone to Vermont, 
up the west side of the Green Mountains, to Middlebury and 
New Haven, for a long journey, to see their aunts. I was 
told that it was rash to send them off so ; but if people never 
have any responsibility laid upon them, they will never 
come to any thing." 

It was at the commencement at Williams College, in the 
summer of this year, that he was made by the college a 
D.D., and, at the same time, one of its trustees. 

To Mary. 

" Union College, July 21st. 
" I am at President Nott's, where they are very nice, and 
particular, and genteel, and hospitable. This evening I have 
been issuing my oration : a most beautiful church, the finest 
to speak in I ever saw. Oh that I had just such a church ! 
It is unlike any other that I ever saw. The audience was 
very large — one hour and a quarter — ' as well as could be 
expected.' The governor, secretary, comptroller, etc., of the 
State were present. Governor Wright doesn't look ' a bit ' 
as I expected. He holds a very remarkable pen, one of the 
strongest pens in the world. I am grieved that I can not 
go over these beautiful grounds, and see them and Mr. Jack- 
son's garden. This garden is a part of the college premises, 
and the college pay a part of its annual expenses. You can 
hardly imagine any thing more beautiful than the location 
of the college, its grounds, and the fullness and richness of 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 337 

every thing here. The professors are very refined gentle- 
men, but I ha\e had no time to go to their houses. I am 
treated with much more attention than I deserve. Every 
thing is on a more democratic scale here than with us — a 

warmer atmosphere— and I am turning democratic fast 

For my chamber, I have a French mahogany bedstead, 
wardrobe, bureau, every convenience possible, and six towels! 
Tell mother of that ! Oh, the luxury of six towels ! and 
soap, and a pailful of water, in addition to the pitcher !" 
Mr. Todd was always remarkably neat in person. There 
was hardly any luxury which he prized so highly as a well- 
provided wash-stand. Some one once had the curiosity to 
watch him, and count how many times in the day he washed 
his hands. The number that day was forty. 

To Martha. 

"July 22d. 
"The college exercises were very different from those of 
our colleges. More politics, more New Yorkish, and every 
thing bearing the impress of one mind, one head, one man. 
The college is a unit, and one man has made it all that it is; 
and that man is certainly one of the most shrewd to manage 
men with whom I ever came in contact. There is no state- 
liness, no dignity, but the power to manage men, and make 
them do just as he pleases. One thing is remarkable, that 
there is no resisting law, no rebellions, no college tricks. 
This was the universal testimony of all the professors. All 
the students are allowed to go into Professor Jackson's gar- 
dens at all times, and yet not a flower or shrub is plucked 
or injured. The whole is an enigma to me, an anomaly in 
human governments. I have formed a new conception of 
the power of gardening : it certainly is a most wonderful 

art, and, if able, I would go into it The young ladies 

in this region dress* quite as plainly as with us. They are 
good-looking, many of them handsome. I am told that 
'Fanny Forrester' has, with her pen, bought a little farm for 
her parents, and paid for it, all within three years. This is 
all very well, except the foolish things which she wrote for 
the money. I have never yet seen the thing which she 
wrote with which I was pleased. No one has a right to 
use her education and powers merely to amuse. Life is too 
important a trust thus to be squandered." 



338 JOHN TODD. 

To Mev. J. Brace. 

"September 7th. 

"Little Samuel was taken siek on Friday, and has been 
growing worse ever since. He is very low, and I have many 
fears as to the result. It now seems as if he must die. But 
God can raise him up, and in him is all our trust. He looks 
beautiful in his paleness, and it will be a terrible stroke to 
us if he must die. But I know that he belongs to God; 
he is his, to dispose of as he sees best, and I rejoice to have 
him in such hands. We all love him, excessively perhaps, 
and yet I know that his Maker must love him more. He has 
but just come from the hands of God, and if he recalls the 
gift, we ought to say nothing. Let us have your prayers, 
that, whatever the event, we may be, and do, and feel right." 

"September 10th. 

"Last night Mrs. Todd and I had a very sad night, hang- 
ing over him, and giving him up, and doubtful whether he 
could live to see another morning. But the morning has 
come, and he is here. We know not w T hat a day may bring 
forth. We are in the hands of God. He lent us this jewel, 
and if he recalls it, to place it in the crown of Christ, we 
ought to be silent. I hope we shall be; but we need not 
tell you that, as a child draws near the grave, he becomes in- 
expressibly near and dear." 

" September 15 th. 

"The dear child is still with us. He is wasted to a skel- 
eton, and, oh, his pains and shrieks ! The skill of the physi- 
cians is baffled, and they stand confounded. He may hold 
out a day or two longer, but I have relinquished, as I think, 
nearly all hope of his life. My prayer is that he may be 
spared the agonies of the body, and be transferred kindly to 
that world where groans, and contortions, and cries of dis- 
tress are unheard. We have ever held this child as a spe- 
cial loan from God, and to be cheerfully surrendered to him. 
When you hear again, I think, undoubtedly, you will hear 
of him as one who is gone to join our loved ones in that 
better country. Do you read the fifteenth of First Corinthians 
with new interest?" 

"September 17th. 

"Little Samuel is still with us, to the surprise of every 
body. The physicians are very attentive and watchful, day 






LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 339 

and night, but human skill seems unavailing. We try to 
leave the event, and him and ourselves, in the hand of God. 
We have a sort of feeling that the poor little fellow must 
go away alone, but we ought not. We bring him every 
hour to Christ, and ask him to take him up in his arms and 
bless him." 

"September 19th. 

"The dear one is just going — is beyond the power of 
swallowing. Day and night we have hung over him, and 
watched and prayed ; but God has his own thoughts and 
ways. Amen." 

"September 28th. 

"He died a week ago last Sabbath. He was a very 
promising little boy, and filled a large place in our hearts 
and in our family ; but at his birth we received him as a 
precious loan from God, and when we presented him in bap- 
tism, we gave him to the Lord, and when he was dying, we 
again lent him to the Lord as long as his soul liveth. He 
suffered unspeakably during his sickness, and was twenty- 
four hours in dying. I had to preach on the Sabbath, and 
came home at noon to see him give up his little life to God, 
who gave it. We had fasted and prayed most earnestly, 
during his sickness, that if God, in his wisdom, saw best, he 
might live ; and when we saw that this was not God's will, 
we said, 'The will of the Lord be done!' We have now 
again but six children, and only one son ; but our earnest 
prayer is, that we may be led to more faithfulness to our 
children, and in the ministry, and in whatsoever our hand 
findeth to do. It makes a great vacancy in our family to 
have the baby taken away, to have his ringing laugh and 
clear voice silent in the grave; but we trust that when 
we go to him, we shall find our jewel in the crown of 
Christ." 

In the latter part of his life Dr. Todd once said, that if all 
the little children whose funerals he had attended could be 
brought together, they would make a great congregation. 
Perhaps it was, in part, to fit him for such a ministry that he 
was thus a second time made to find in his own experience 
the peculiar sorrows and consolations in the loss of a little 
child. It is certain that the tenderness and poetry of his 
nature made his words remarkably beautiful, and caused his 



340 JOHN TODD. 

services to be much sought for and greatly valued, on such 
occasions. 

Not long afterward the father caused a small marble mon- 
ument to be set up at the little grave, with a brief inscrip- 
tion, and the following epitaph: 

" Te optato, precatus sum ; 
Dato, lsetatus sum ; 
zEgroto, te Christo commendari; 
Mortuo, flevi : 

Cum te, in morte requiescam! 
Iterum, tecum, sim dignus, ero ! 
Vale, o ter car us, vale !"* 

It is worthy of note that in later years, when his grown 
children died, he wrote no epitaphs. The deeper sorrow re- 
fused such consolations. 

The old church had by this time become so crowded that 
a division began seriously to be talked of. " The complaint 
is, that they are too prosperous, too full, too crowded." 

To Mrs. Todd, absent from Home. 

"February 13th, 1847. 

"The division is more and more the subject of conversa- 
tion ; and I believe it is the universal opinion, with but few 
exceptions, that it had better be done, and that now is as 
good a time as ever can be to do it. Amen. I think it will 
break us up, but that fear must not be expressed. The only 
way to prevent it is, to determine that it shall not do it. I 
attended a funeral yesterday of an old Methodist — not much 
of a Christian, as well as the rest of us. Mary gets along 
very well, drives all before her; Irish and Dutch have to 
stand around." 

" March 1st. 

" I have been at work very hard in preaching and prayer- 
meetings, in hopes that God would be pleased to grant us a 
revival. But the wind does not come, and the spices do not 

When thou wast desired, I prayed ; 

Given, I rejoiced; 

Sick, I commended thee to Christ ; 

Dead, I wept ; 

With thee in death I shall rest ! 

Again with thee, if I am worthy, I shall be ! 

Farewell, O thrice-dear, farewell ! 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 341 

flow out of the garden. How little can we do without the 
Spirit of God !" 

Only three days after this he wrote : " I drop a line to 
you to entreat that you and mother would pray for us, espe- 
cially for Martha. The Spirit of the Lord is in some meas- 
ure here. The boarders in the school are under powerful 
impressions; and a terrible conflict is going on in the mind 
of dear Martha. I am beseeching God, with many tears, 
that she may live. She has shed many herself. I know 
that God can be glorified though Israel be not gathered ; 
and I know that he can be glorified even though my chil- 
dren are lost ; but how can I go up to my Father's house, 
and the child go not with me? Oh that God would have 
mercy on my child !" 

"March 6th. 

"The work of the Lord is most wonderful in Mr. Tyler's 
school. I have never seen any thing like it during my 
ministry. Between twenty and thirty of the boarders have 
hopefully been born again within one week. The work is 
commencing, as I hope, among the day-scholars. Our Mar- 
tha is in very great distress of mind. We pray very much 
for her, and so do many, many others. We have had among 
my people some most curious meetings. I have preached, 
at home and abroad, twelve .times since last Sabbath morn- 
ing. We seem to be in great suspense, fearful lest the cloud 
go past ; and very irritable and fretful, and almost quarrel- 
ing, because we must, in the church, repent of our sins." 

"March 21st. 

"The work is very powerful in the schools, very searching 
and thorough. It leaves some to groan in despair. I have 
met one hundred and sixteen in all in the inquiry-meeting. 
Of these about half are hoping in Christ. But the work is 
hitherto mostly confined to the schools. The most discour- 
aging thing among us is, that very few Christians are awake, 
or know or care any thing about it. Why is it that it is 
so much more difficult for even the Holy Spirit to awaken 
Christians than to convert sinners? I do not know what to 
do, except to hope and to pray that God will save by the 
feio, as he did under Gideon. We can not but hope that 
dear Martha and John have the divine principle within 
them. They appear so changed, so delightful, that it seems 



342 



JOHN TODD. 



too much to believe. And Isaac, poor ignorant hired boy, 
he too has been called, and, so far as the poor fellow knows, 
feels as if there had been a great change in him. How won- 
derful, if it be so, that He, the latchet of whose shoes we 
are not worthy to unloose, should come under our roof three 
times within a fortnight ! We know that you will help us to 
praise redeeming mercy. I am full of anxieties and labors 
among my people, and feel afraid that Christ can not do 
many mighty works here, because of our unbelief. How I 
think of Joab now ! Four years ago, in the revival, he was 
here, how active and prayerful ! The 'former rain,' in olden 
time, was to prepare the ground for the seed, and the ' latter 
rain' to fill out and ripen the harvest. Was he not then re- 
ceiving the latter rain? And when they rejoice in heaven 
over one sinner that repenteth, is he not rejoicing with pe- 
culiar joy ? Has he not a knowledge of what is doing here? 
Is he not unspeakably blessed? 'Neither do they die any 
more !' I feel that he is to be envied rather than mourned ; 
but in this revival my mind turns to him with indescribable 
emotions. He was to me an eldest son, and no more sincere 
mourner has he left on earth. Oh, if we might but meet in 
heaven ! How soon shall we know all about it ? Are Joab 
and John and my two babes together? Have the former 
things passed away to them ? I hope they are indeed king's 
sons, and are now inheriting the crown of life. Amen." 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 343 



CHAPTER XXV. 

life at pittsfield — continued. 

An absent Child.— Letters of Encouragement. — "Make them love you." — 
Not Beloved enough. — Not Affectionate enough. — Children joining the 
Church. — Blue-pill Diet. — Preparations. — Winter at Hand. — A fairy Thing. 
— A sick Child.— A big Temperance Pledge. — Two ends of a Glass.— Mag. 
— Tableaux. — Colonizing meditated. —Once more an Editor. — Another 
Baby. — "Worse than a Ghost. — " I'll be Mum." — Laying a Corner-stone. — 
A Mighty Pyramid. — Miss Lyon. — John Foster.— First Meeting of the 
American Board. — A peculiar Revival. — An endless -chain Meeting. — A 
pleasant Revival.— Close of the Tear. — A Fire.— The Father of Church- 
es.— Proposals from Philadelphia. — Visit to New Haven. — Memories. — 
" Didn't know he was so much hurt." — A surgical Operation. — Voice vs. 
Brains. — A Dedication. 

In the spring of 1847, Mary, the oldest child, who had 
graduated brilliantly at Maplewood Institute the year be- 
fore, received and accepted an offer to teach in a town on 
Cape Cod. The following are extracts from her father's let- 
ters to her : 

"May 6th. 

" My dear Mary, — I have but a moment to write. Your 
mother came home yesterday, a year older than when she 
left " [her birthday having occurred], " lean and hungry, 
having starved herself at every hotel. Uncle Collins came 
here the day she left, sick and very nervous ; and Martha is 
wretched with the headache ; and so I, as usual, am the only 
hearty, handsome, and blithe man among them all. No great 
news has been stirred up since you left us, except that we 
have had storms, and cold, and winter, and I — a new hat! 
We are all upon the jump, since yesterday was a pleasant 
day, and to-day promises to be another, and we are all over- 
whelmed with the pressure of spring-business. Now, Mary, 
I know just how you feel, for I used to feel just so myself 
when I kept school, albeit I had no home to think of. I have 
great confidence in your power and ability to do any thing 
you please, and the power to make warm friends, if you will 
only try it. I dreamed about you all last night, and came 



344 JOHN TODD. 

to see you, and a queer place I found you in, truly ! But I 
have much confidence in the divine Protector, and in your 
own good judgment and lofty character. You can not help 
succeeding in any thing in which you will try. Make the 
children love yoic, make all the folks love you. If you suc- 
ceed well this summer, you will have an enviable reputation 
as a scholar and a teacher. This discipline, which seems so 
hard to you, is the very thing you need. It was my food 
during all my youth, and even till this day. I intend, if 
you are a good girl, to write much and often. Be as agree- 
able as possible. They are all prepared to show that they 
will esteem and love you. At your age I had to be a man, 
and at the same age you must be a woman. Write often, 
cheer up, keep busy, think not of yourself or of us, but of 
making every body happy. 

" Yours, Maryissimus, J. Todd." 

" May 10th. 

" Congratulate yourself that you are not here. House- 
cleaning ! carpets up, dust flying, rooms topsy-turvy, women 
screaming, men coughing, kitchen eating, bedlam greeting — 
what a week ! Well, I'm to be in New York one day out 

of it all We were greatly glad to hear from you. I 

want you should be happy and faithful. You can't work 
harder than your poor daddy has always done. I want you 
should be pleased with every body, and try to please every 
body. I'll tell you a secret. You and I will ever be likely 
to be respected enough ; but, unless we are careful, Ave shall 
not be beloved -enough. I would not have much formality 
in your school. Mother says you have a sweet set of girls. 
I would not have any monitors or monitresses. It will not 
be necessary, and it will only make you more distant and 
formal — the very thing you want to avoid. We think much 
of you, and pray much for you. Oh, why can't you hear 

Mr. preach ! What a loss to you — to him ! I suspect 

he comes all the way to preach to you and other sinners. 
It's delightful weather here, and I hope it is with you. Be 
good, be cheerful, be agreeable, be obliging, and remember 
that you will be happy just in proportion as you make oth- 
ers happy." 

" May 30th. 

"I have been out of health myself of late, having a de- 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 345 

pression of spirits and courage, energy and hopes, very un- 
usual with me. I hardly know what to make of it, or what 
to do for it. The spring has come on with a voice of glad- 
ness, and in a pathway of flowers. We have planted two 
mountain ash-trees, and one lime, or linden, tree, in our front 
yard, all of which now promise to live. We are also dip- 
ping into the land of roses Be punctual in your corre- 
spondence. Do you attend prayers in your own school- 
room by yourself? I heard that Mr. spoke very well 

of you in Boston last week, and I hope you will gain the ap- 
probation of all. We don't tell you how much we want to 
see you. It isn't time to think of that. Keep busy as you 
can. *I want you should walk much every day, in all weath- 
ers, as soon as you can accustom yourself to it. Do take 
as much exercise in the open air as you can. Do you call 
on any of the parents of your children ? I want to have you 
do so, and you will find it pleasant." 

"June 12th. 
"I am a perfect boy when your letters don't come, and 
when they do. If you could see how eagerly I watch for 
them, and how glad I am to receive them, or how much I 
want to see you, you would not doubt that you are remember- 
ed here, and much thought of. ... . As to 's sociableness, 

you and I are not by nature very social or very communi- 
cative. We appear reserved to others, and I think we are. 
Few can be very social with us. I believe we have hearts 
that are warm enough, but we show the cold side of them. 
If thore be any thing which I especially mourn over, in the^ 
education of my family, it is that I have not taught them to 
be more affectionate. You, probably, come home from your 
school, weary, jaded, and sombre, with very little sunshine 
in your face, and you feel the need of some one to cheer you 
up and revive you ; and they feel that you ought to come in 
and bring sunshine and joy, and light up the countenances 
of all by your approach, as Doctor Shepard used to do. 
Now, I wish you would try for one week, and see how affec- 
tionate you can be — not how affectionate you. can appear, 
but really be, and see if there be not a reciprocal influence. 
We are all so much publicans, that we love those who love 
us. Try it, and see. You must not exact, or expect, much 
from the world, and then all. you receive is clear gain. I do 

23 



346 JOHX TODD. 

think you are desirous of meeting our approbation, and you 
do meet it most unfeignedly in most tilings. I do not think 
this apparent want of affection is so much a moral as a nat- 
ural deficiency in you and me. It is hard work for us to be 
social and agreeable, and yet, if we try, we can be both. 
Let us t?'t/, for one week, to love every body On Satur- 
day I had the melancholy pleasure of setting up little Sam- 
uel's monument, grassing over the grave, and setting out a 
little evergreen at each of the four corners of the lot. It 
looks beautiful, but my heart yearns with an indescribable 
tenderness toward my departed child. I feel it most when 
I am away from home, and think of returning to meet my 

children As for being homesick, you must discard the 

word and the thought. Don't count the weeks, or allow 
yourself to think any thing about the end. I believe it 
will come before summer does ! We don't say any thing 
about it, or think of it. When the time comes, you will 
be sure to be welcomed. ' Deeds, and not words,' is my 
motto." 

"June 28th. 

"We have great expectations concerning next Sabbath. 
Nearly fifty are to join the church, a greater number than at 
any one communion since 1821, and among them our own 
dear Martha and John. My heart is greatly rejoiced in the 
prospect. I shall think of you more than ever, and do wish 

you could be with us I have been living on blue-pill 

and water-gruel for the last week — a poor kind of diet; but 
I can't do much, and don't try. Probably I shall be off, as 
soon as the communion is over, for rest and recruiting. I 
am crippled in health and spirits, and believe all want to get 
rid of me." 

The reader may have noticed that after every season of 
great effort, and especially after every revival in his church, 
Mr. Todd suffered in health, and resorted to powerful medi- 
cine and violent exercise, thinking himself the victim of 
dyspepsia induced by bodily inactivity. It is a very com- 
mon mistake among ministers. There can be little doubt 
that he injured himself by maltreatment of what was in re- 
ality nervous exhaustion. On this occasion, as usual, his va- 
cation journey did him more good than any medicine, and 
he returned very much restored. 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 347 

"September 6th. 

" Mart dear, — We are preparing to have you come 
home — i. e., the leaves begin to fall, and the plums begin to 
go into preserves, and the harvests begin to go into the 
barn. We have, by hook or by crook, fruit enough, and 
could well spare enough to make you sick once or twice. 
Have good courage ; every week takes off one ; and when 
you get home, you'll find us looking just as we used to look, 
and we eat at the same hours, and sleep in the same beds, 
and go the same rounds; but we'll be right glad to see you, 
4 for a' that, and a' that.' I suppose that mother has written 
you all the dry news, and I have none that is moist. We do 
nothing here in the. way of marrying or giving in marriage, 
and the lions are all killed off, and the thunder seems to 
have gone into winter- quarters. When the cold weather 
comes on, and it will probably come suddenly, I want you 
to meet the scowling old gentleman all wrapped in flannels, 
so that you can look him directly in the face, and defy his 

fingers to pinch you bine or black The company are 

all gone, and I'm glad, for your good mother fumed about 
them in a way very unusual. I suppose that we men should 
be more unwilling to have company than we are, if we had 
all the hard work to do. But as it is, I do like to have a 
houseful. Still, I know it takes time and labor, and so con- 
sumes us that we are poor all the time It will soon 

now be cold weather, and glorious Berkshire will put off her 
beautiful dress, and be as barren as when you left. Well, 
you have gazed on 'the dark blue sea' in the mean while, 
and have breathed salt air. Write punctually, and particu- 
larly, and patiently, and I will try to do so hereafter 

So you see the world goes on here pretty much as it does 
on the Cape. You have most water, and we have most land. 
Work is hard there, and it isn't easy here. You will very 
soon be through now, so don't borrow any trouble. You'll 
value home the more, and see that your father is handsomer 
than you ever conceived of. ... . I married a Dutchman and 
his Vrau, a few days since, though they could not understand 
a word of English, nor I a word of their Dutch. But they 
£aid I looked like a minister, and felt satisfied." 

" September 20th. 

" Old winter has already been peeping over the mount-. 



348 JOHN TODD. 

ains, and piping around our ears, with his bags full of wind. 
He has sent down two of his hungry messengers, and they 
have bitten our cucumber-vines to death, and eaten up our 
squash and pumpkin vines, withered the corn, and, in short, 
eaten and bitten every thing they could. The trees begin 
to hang down their ears, the leaves to turn yellow and sour, 
the crickets to sing their death-song, the city fry to hasten 
back to sin and sea-coal, while the very clouds look as if 
they needed great-coats. As to our farm, I'm afraid to look 

at it I do not forget that day after to-morrow will be 

the anniversary of the birth of my eldest daughter, of the 
death of Uncle Joab, and of the burial of my youngest son. 
To-day, one year ago, he died. It seems a long time since I 
saw him ; but he still comes to me with his curling locks, 
his flashing eye, and his joyous laugh of childhood. He still 
comes back to me just as he used to ride on his little horse — 

"A fairy thing, with flaxen hair, 

And eyes of blue, and downy cheek, 
And frolic limbs, and lips that were 
Striving for evermore to speak. 

"Seasons may roll, and manhood's pride 
Each youthful breast may fill, 
And one by one they'll leave my side, 
But he will be a baby still. 

"When six around the board are set, 
And call on father and on mother, 
To mortal eyes but six are met ; 
But I, but 7, can see another." 

" Have patience, and hope, and courage, dear Mary, and I 
think you will never regret the severity of the discipline." 

Very soon after this last letter, the recipient of it was 
compelled by a fever to abandon her school, when the term 
was almost at its close, and return home. The sickness 
seems to have been the beginning of her years of suffering. 

To Hev. Joab Brace. 

"November 20th. 

"Mary is very feeble, thin, scrawny, and cold — no strength 

and no vitality — no recuperative power in the system. I 

am busy, and hurried, and driven, and pestered. Mr. B , 

after having been here fifteen years, is now to be driven 

away by his people, they having just found out that he is 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 349 

not a great man or a great preacher. So we are turned off 
the moment that we are not wanted. I've made up my 
mind to it, and don't mean to worry or grieve when my turn 
comes. I hope that ministers who are faithful will be appre- 
ciated better in the next world than they are in this. We 
are having Mr. Gough here; but every thing seems utterly 
powerless in the temperance cause." 

In spite of the discouragement here expressed, the writer 
engaged in the work with his customary ardor. Under his 
direction, when Mr. Gough had aroused immense enthusiasm, 
a huge blank book, elegantly bound and inscribed, was pro- 
cured and circulated by a committee, for the signatures of the 
whole town to the pledge. Several hundred names had been 
procured, when the volume suddenly and forever disappeared. 
It is said that liquor is still sold and drunk in Pittsfield. 

"December 4th. 

"My dear Wife, — The children promised you that they 
would write. I made no such promise, and yet I do more 
than they in fulfillment. As to how we get along — if you 
look through one glass, poorly: Mary is feeble and discour- 
aged ; John and Sarah have been Thanksgivingy sick ; the 
warm weather has moulded the pies, soured the turkey and 
chickens, spoiled the yeast; and there has been scolding, 
and crossness, and tewing. If you look through another 
glass, we get along finely; we have eaten up sour turkeys 
and fowls, and have good bread. Mary is getting better; 
she works adays, and I warm her bed and nurse her, nights ; 
and she drives every thing except thunder and lightning 
and me. Martha and Sarah are up, and make every bed in 
the house, before breakfast ! Lucy sweeps the rooms, even 
to my study, and I don't believe a woman in the town could 
or would make the rooms look better. When they are ail- 
ing, I give them a good dose of magnesia, and that seems 
to settle them. 'Brimstone morning' comes pretty often. 
Let the symptoms or complaints be what they may, down 
goes the mag./ Isaac and I have got the windows all on, 
the chips raised up from the ground, the door of the shed 
up, and the front of the wood-house boarded up. I am up 
latest and earliest. I watch the stoves (we have nine up, 
you know, besides one dummy, and several retired upon 
pensions in the garret), and then I ride one hour on horse- 



850 JOHN TODD. 

back, when the weather is not too horrible, as it is all the 
time, and walk some when the mud is not too deep, as it is 
all the time; besides having preached once, attended one 
teachers' meeting and one funeral, lectured once in each 
school, written several letters and one chapter, and visited 
fifteen families, all since you left. Anna eats slow and long, 
and says she thinks she is adapted to tableaux. They have 
had one tableau, and Sarah made a very good old woman, 
Lucy a boy, and Anna a little girl, all weeping at some 
tomb, except that Anna would snicker during the whole per- 
formance. The kitchen-girls were the spectators." 

"December 14th. 

"My people have started, in full earnest, to rear a new 
church. So far their measures are unanimous, decided, man- 
ly, and Christian. I go with them most heartily ; for, what- 
ever may be the result so far as 7 am concerned, the thing 
ought to be done. There are not less than fifty families and 
one hundred and fifty young men who have literally found 
it impossible to get into my church ; and they must go to 
other denominations, or become heathen. I feel it a compli- 
ment that so many want to come that can not; still, I 
should not at all wonder if it should be the means of my 
leaving the place. I leave it all with Divine Providence, 
and in the mean time rejoice." 

" December 19th. 

"I have very little expectation of living to be old; but 
if I should, I hope and believe I shall have enough of man- 
hood and wisdom, and Christian spirit to retire at a very 
much earlier age than some do. My only anxiety is, to do 
what I can while I do work. I am not troubled as to when 
I must stop working. If I should live to seventy, and if I 
am then in the same mind I now am, I shall drop all : if I 
am not in the same mind, it will only prove that the judg- 
ment is so far gone that I ought to be stopped." 

In the spring of 1848, a publishing concern in Pittsfield 
started a new weekly paper, which was called the Berkshire 
Agriculturist / and Doctor Todd was persuaded to resume, 
anonymously, the quill and the scissors, which he had not 
used for many years. His editorship continued through the 
first eleven numbers only: with the twelfth number the 
ownership and management of the paper changed. 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 351 

"February 15th, 1848. 

" You will recollect that I do not expect to make it a 
religious paper: that could not be sustained in this region; 
but I try to give every thing a shove that way, and to 
throw in guiding thoughts in selecting, writing, etc., which 
will lead the community aright. Nobody in the region 
knows that I have any thing to do with it. What I do to 
it, is done by candle-light, before breakfast." 

" July 12th. 

"We have been most kindly and wonderfully blessed, 
and you have a new grandson, who looks more like you than 
you do yourself. He is now a great, noble fellow, and we 
hope and pray that he may live long, and honor the Lord 
Jesus." 

" October 23d. 

" Mr. Shepard came on Tuesday last — the very day I had 
to go off to an ordination, and leave him. We went down to 
Lenox on Saturday to see him, and they are coming here to- 
morrow, and that is all that we shall see of him and Samuel. 
We can not well entertain Samuel, for John is such an old 
man that he doesn't run with any boys, of any size or shape. 
Mrs. Todd came home loaded with your kindnesses, for 
which we return you many thanks. I suppose it is as hard 
for me to feel thankful as for any body, but I have no dif- 
ficulty in expressing thanks." 

" December 18th. 

"I am glad that at last you have written, for I had written 
three letters to you, and no reply ! I began to think you 
were worse than a ghost ; for they say he will speak at the 

third challenge I truly sympathize with you in money 

matters, but you are a king compared with me. Last year 
we fell behind nearly three hundred dollars, and I am now 
writing for papers, and magazines, and what-nots, to get up. 
My expenses, this year, are not one cent short of twenty-one 
hundred dollars. How am I to get it? Salary twelve hun- 
dred dollars ! And yet we try to be as close and economical 
as possible." 

"Dear Mother, — Your letter to Mrs. Todd is all Greek 
and Hebrew, and Dutch and Mohawk, to me. I don't know 
what it means. The fact is, I mean to do right, to help every 



352 JOHN TODD. 

body I can, and I do so continually; and then, what they 
say, or do, or think, or feel, I don't care a straw. I have 
nothing worth concealing, and if my shirt isn't raooed, I 
don't care who sees me with my coat off. I hate nobody, 
and dislike nobody, and am jealous of nobody, and so I get 
along well. For my life I can't see what you would be at. 
But I'll be mum, and careful, and wise, and prudent, and ju- 
dicious, and discreet, and cautious, and I hope you'll be the 
same. You may comfort yourself with this, dear mother, 
that whatever any body may say about me, it isn't half so 
bad as I deserve; and I won't quarrel with Beelzebub 
(Clarke says it ought to be ~Bee\zeboulf). So get your bar- 
rel and write as often as you can. Nobody's perfect except 
Doctor Bushnell and his wife. Thine, etc." 

The closing event of the year was the laying of the cor- 
ner-stone of the church designed for the colony which ex- 
pected soon to go out from the old parish, and which subse- 
quently took the name of the South Church. So careful 
had the pastor been to avoid all bitterness during the deli- 
cate process of colonizing, that he was selected to make the 
address on the occasion ; and so kind and generous were his 
feelings toward the colony that was taking from his church 
a large part of its spiritual strength, that he could hardly 
have spoken more earnestly or affectionately had the corner- 
stone been designed for a new edifice for his own flock. His 
sentiments toward his daughter -church never underwent 
any change, except to deepen. And, on the other hand, the 
church, in spite-of the facts that it naturally carried out with 
it whatever disaffected elements there were, and that it had 
to struggle for its own growth against Doctor Todd's popu- 
larity, cherished for him an increasing respect and affection. 
In his old age and leisure there was no one more welcome 
in their pulpit ; and none mourned his death more sincerely 
than the people whose hands carpeted and hung his grave 
with flowers. 

" February 3d, 1849. 

"My dear Brother, — I believe that I gave you an ac- 
count of the sickness and death of our little boy. But God 
has kindly given us another little boy, now seven months 
old, whom we call James Smith Todd, after a friend in Phil- 
adelphia. He is a very fine child, and we think altogether 



LIFE AT PITTS FIELD. 353 

too much about him. So we have now seven children living. 
Mary is teaching Latin and Greek, two hours a day ; Martha, 
Sarah, Lucy, and Anna go to the Young Ladies' Institute. 
John goes to the Gymnasium. He is now fifteen years old, 
a tall fellow, a good scholar, and not much of a boy. How 
I shall ever contrive to send him to college, should we both 
live, is more than I can possibly conceive. My children are 
all pretty well now, though we have had much and severe 
sickness. Were it not that I pay for my tuition by lectur- 
ing weekly in three schools, I could never do it. It is with 
the utmost difficulty that I can live on my salary ; and as 
for property, I have long since made up my mind that God 
does not intend I shall have any." 

" March 11th, Sabbath evening. 
"Twenty-two years to-day since you married me to Mrs. 
Todd. What years they have been ! years of wandering, 
changing, sickening, dying, hoping, rejoicing, years of mer- 
cy ! Could we rear a monument to divine goodness equal to 
what we have received, it would make the mightiest pyra- 
mid seem a dwarf. There is a very mournful satisfaction in 
the review, arising from the mingled vision of happy days 
and years, while waste and ingratitude are very prominently 
seen. In my own case, I can truly and honestly say there 
is not a spot in my life at which I can look with any feelings 
but shame and remorse. All the horizon that bounds the 
past shuts down gloomily upon my vision ; nor dare I, 
knowing my habits of mind and body and soul, look for any 
thing much brighter in the way of my duties and labors for 

the future Miss Lyon, you see, is suddenly cut off from 

a life of great usefulness; but God does not need any one 
instrument with which to carry on his plans. She was an 
extraordinary woman, having more physical, intellectual, 
and moral strength united in her than I ever saw in any 

other woman With great delight I have been reading 

the ' Life and Correspondence of John Foster' — a very won- 
derful mind. I have never felt deeper rebukes, or had more 
humiliating feelings, than since I have been reading him. 
He was a solitary creature, towering aloft like some huge 
castle, cold, symmetrical, strong, and awful. His chief 
power was analysis — dissecting and going to first princi- 
ples; but when he undertook sarcasm, Achilles himself never 



354 JOHN TODD. 

poised his spear with move power. It would pierce any 
shield that was merely human. His piety was deep, cold, 
consistent, and often beautiful, and I have no doubt but 
through the horizon which looks cold to us he often had 
flashes and glimmerings of eternity's light which were clear 

and warm. I want you should get and read him I 

have been quite ill of late : the old complaints have returned 
with seven other evils, and prostrated my strength, cut down 
my courage, and thrown a muffler over all that is hopeful. 
I am trying to live on coarse bread, and such unsophisticated 
materials— about as good as powdered brick wet up with 
molasses and water. One abominates to be complaining all 
the time, and I try to make as little ado as possible ; but I 
have the impression that memory, and judgment, and mind, 
and every mental faculty, lie so near my stomach that they 
all suffer. It may not end in a break-down, but I am not 
without serious apprehensions. God is good." 

In the preceding year Doctor Todd had instigated his 
people to invite the American Board to hold their annual 
meeting in Pittsfield, although it was deemed by many of 
his people preposterous to think of entertaining such a mul- 
titude. The invitation was accepted ; and Doctor Todd 
naturally had to assume the responsibility of carrying the 
undertaking through. Never did his executive talents have 
a better opportunity to display themselves. He organized 
energetic committees, prepared a systematic plan of opera- 
tions, and was ubiquitous and incessant in his own personal 
labors. The whole region was scoured for places for guests, 
and the people opened their doors hospitably. Among other 
offers which Doctor Todd received was one from the Shaker 
settlement, proposing to take a limited number of guests, 
but on the condition that they should consent to be lodged 
" the men apart, and their wives apart." The result of the 
undertaking was gratifying to all. The meeting at Pitts- 
field was long remembered by hosts and guests as one of 
the pleasantest, as it was one of the largest, meetings of the 
Board that had ever been held. 

"February 27th, 1850. 

"I have been laboring hard to bring about a revival, but 
'it is not of him that willeth.' We hold the half- hour 
prayer-meeting every evening at seven o'clock, which has in 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 355 

it from forty to fifty. But there is no moving among the 

dry bones. In A , where I spent last Sabbath, there is 

a peculiar state of society, and a peculiar revival. It is on 
the high-pressure principle ; and though most evidently the 
work of the Spirit, yet not (in its being guided by men) 
after my heart. I did not enjoy it so much as I should had 
it not been so much in the hands of men — an apparent feel- 
ing that God could do nothing without man's aid. Hence 
'the anxious -seats,' the 'speaking' of the young converts 
every night, and a parade of the new-comers in a way that 
spoiled it, almost, for me. Perhaps I am too cold, and too 
conservative, and too old - fashioned ; but I feel very sure 
that, let the consequences be what they might, I should 
never have such doings under my administration." 

"March 26th. 
"As to my profession, I have had, and do have, not a little 
anxiety. The fact is, that in every church there are ' new- 
measure,' fiery, sky-rocket people, who feel that God can do 
little or nothing without their shouting and lifting. About 
four weeks since I established a half-hour prayer-meeting ev- 
ery evening, and called as many in as I could get in. These 
have been observed every evening since. The week follow- 
ing, the Baptists started an endless- chain meeting in their 
church every night. They got a man from Boston to come 
and preach ; then they got public ' anxious-seats ;' then they 
got men and women to talk, Hell what the Lord had done,' 
and ' confess their sins.' This goes on every evening. I 
pretend not to say but that they are doing good, and that 
souls are not converted : this is their way. I have called 
my church to observe a day of fasting and prayer this week, 
and to keep up their half- hour meetings. I have also ap- 
pointed an inquiry-meeting. This has been my way for the 
greater part of my life, and when I have varied from it ma- 
terially I have always been sorry. But some of my ardent 
and burning ones feel greatly dissatisfied. They want, and 
are determined, to have a protracted meeting, and anxious 
seats, and to run a race with the Baptists. I simply stand 
still. Unless I alter my mind greatly, I shall not do it : naj T , 
I think I shall resist it at all hazards. They act and talk as 
if their minister were behind the age, cold and dry ; and they 
give thanks publicly that 'there are altars to which the poor 



356 JOHN TODD. 

perishing sinner may come,' and * warm hearts to receive 
the heart-smitten,' and they are almost out of patience with 
me, if not quite. But I don't think the course is wise or 
Scriptural, beneficial, or safe. I am at work just as hard as 
I can. My people almost all run to the Baptists. I let 
them run. I say, ' If you want a protracted meeting, there 
is one, and you can go to that: I shall not make fight 
against it by opening an opposition-line.' What will be the 
result, I don't know. But the Lord reigns, and he will do 
as he sees fit; and it is not likely, on the whole, that I shall 
materially and successfully resist his will so as to stop his 
plans." 

« "May 18th. 

"We have had, and still have, much religious attention 
among our people. As many as one hundred and twelve 
have been at the inquiry-meetings, and perhaps as many as 
sixty or seventy have entertained hopes. I have been very 
hard at work, and the effects have been very happy upon 
my church. It has been a most pleascmt revival." 

" December 30th. 

"This last Sabbath in the year is always very solemn to 
me. I attended one funeral yesterday, and preached thrice 
— 'The Barren Fig-tree," Strangers and Sojourners," Where 
art thou?' The pews in my church never sold better than 
for the year coming. We have been through some trying 
scenes, but I have tried to hold the helm very steadily, and 
to meet things very calmly. We have great trials, and very 
great mercies, as I can testify when I see you. The great 
trials which Christ experienced came through his friends. 
So ours must come. I was treated with very great consid- 
eration and kindness at New York, as I always am when I 
go abroad." 

On the first Sabbath in 1851, only an hour or two before 
the time for public worship, the cry of "fire" was raised; 
and it was found that the old church was all in flames 
within. An overheated stove-pipe had set the vestibule on 
fire, and the flames had soon reached the organ above, and 
found in its well-dried pipes fine kindling. Of course the 
whole village was soon on the spot; but it is believed that, 
amidst much show of zeal, there was no special haste to save 
the old house, which had long been too small and too anti- 



LIFE AT HTTSFIELD. 357 

quated, and the removal of which would make the way easy 
for a better structure. " Come," said one prominent mem- 
ber of the congregation to another, slyly, " let us go and set 
fire to the other end." The flames were extinguished when 
they had progressed far enough to make it probable that 
the building would not be repaired for a church. The 
largest hall in town was immediately hired — a great, but 
low, dingy, ill-ventilated, and disagreeable room, up two 
flights of stairs. And here for two years the preacher held 
together his great congregation with no diminution. 

" February 4th, 1851. 

" You know we have had our church burned, and we are 
all adrift. How things will turn up, in Providence ! Have 
I not got back into a hall ? and am I not now planning to 
build the fourth church whose corner-stone I have laid since 
I have been in the ministry ? Shall I not be the father of 
churches ere long ?" 

"April 22d. 

" Doctor Brainard came on from Philadelphia, to urge me 
to return to that city, and with such proposals as are very 
flattering. But I see not how I can leave my present post. 
My people have been racked and shaken, and are now dwell- 
ing in booths, and it seems hard to leave them just now. 
At their meeting, at the beginning of this month, with en- 
tire unanimity, and self-moved, they added fifty per cent, to 
my salary. I do not think the call from Philadelphia had 
much to do with it, as they had determined so to do some 
time since. It is a great kindness, and especially so as it is 
a testimony, after nine years' acquaintance with my weak- 
nesses and imperfections. I regret that my health is so poor 
and unpromising for their good." 

To Mrs. Todd 

"New Haven, Conn., August 8th. 
"The city is wonderfully spread and grown out in every 
direction since the time when you and I were here, and is 
freer from poor, filthy houses than any place of its size that 
I ever saw. What used to be my solitary walks out of the 
city are now covered with houses and shops, new squares 
and mansions. I have enjoyed riding about the city very 
much. I can not understand why it is that I receive so 



358 JOHN TODD. 

many kindnesses and so much attention when I go abroad. 
I am sure that I in no way deserve it, and it really makes 
me feel ashamed that I am so overestimated. I keep say- 
ing to myself, ' I wish she were here to enjoy it with me.' I 
don't half enjoy any thing when you are not with me. Be- 
ing here carries me back to the old Herrick house, and to 
the time when I first saw you ; and I have been living it all 
over, forgetting our great family of children, and the years 
that have gone past since those days. The fences are taken 
away from in front of the churches, and the green looks larger 
and much more beautiful. The college looks natural, and I 
pick out the rooms in which I used to study some, and dream 
of the future. Life was then fresh, and the rainbows of hope 
were many and bright. Well, God has since dealt most 
kindly by me, and I have ten thousand mercies for which to 
be thankful. I don't know but I have done about as much 
as we had reason to expect when we first met, though if I 
could now go back, with my experience, I should hope to do 
much more." 

"Madison, Conn. , August 9th, 1851. 

"Nothing surprises me so much as to see how fast the 
shadows of time, as they fall upon our friends, deepen their 
wrinkles and leave their mark upon them. Our friends here 
are well, but, to me, wonderfully altered. On reaching here, 
I learned that John actually passed his examination and en- 
tered college. I was right glad to learn it, for although I 
had no fear as to his preparations, yet there are so many 
slips that few'things are certain till they become facts by 
having passed by. I believe that the sooner a young man 
forms a plan and a great purpose in life, the better. He is 
more likely to pursue it steadily. Our real and great anxi- 
eties for John are now to commence." 

An English publisher, designing to publish one of Doctor 
Todd's books, wrote to him for a brief sketch of his life as an 
introduction for it. Doctor Todd noted down some items, 
and gave them to one of his daughters to work up into a 
sketch. The following is his acknowledgment of her work: 

"November 18th. 

"As to the sketch, it is beautifully written; and on read- 
ing it I felt like the man who cried when his lawyer was de- 
scribing his sufferings to the jury, 'I didn't know I was so 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 359 

much hurt !' It seemed like an imaginary character, and 
undoubtedly owes more to you than to me. I presume you 
painted as the painter did his angels, when he set porters, 
and waiters, and any ill-shapen creature he could get, before 
him, and then ' drew as unlike them as he could.' I am very 
thankful that I have a daughter who can ' make up ' such a 
picture, though she may not be able to see the many places 
where she can not discern between truth and fiction, or, 
rather, imagination and reality. 

"I am not surprised that you meet with trials. They are 
everywhere, if we do any thing and are any thing. They 
are what make us. And my anxiety is, not lest my children 
should meet with trials, but lest they should not meet them 
rightly, and improve them wisely. I think you will meet 
with as few in your present situation as in any place away 
from home. We should be educated to expect and to meet 
with crosses continually. Set the Lord always before your 
eyes, and you will not be moved." 

" January 16th, 1852. 

"Since I saw you I have been through a terrible scene, 
in having a surgical operation performed on my back. For 
about twenty years I have had a small tumor on my back, 
near the spine, and a little below the shoulders. It has al- 
ways been tender, like an inflamed eye, so that touching it 
put me in agony. For the last twenty years I suppose that 
I have not spent a day without pain, or been able to lie a 
moment on my back. At last it became so painful that it 
was wearing my life out, and I felt that, if I could not get 
relief, I must die. The reason why I did not have the knife 
used years ago was, that the physicians were in doubt wheth- 
er or not it was attached to the spine. If it w r as, cutting it 
out would cost life. On consulting a distinguished surgeon in 
Philadelphia last fall, he gave it as his opinion that it might 
be safely removed. On returning home, I called in a sur- 
geon and a professor in the Medical College, who examined 
it by putting me under ether, so that they could handle it. 
One felt that it w r ould be safe, and the other that it w T as 
not certain. So the next morning they came, with two men 
to hold me. My family, wife excepted, never mistrusted 
any thing, though I met them all at the breakfast-table. I 
sat down and took ether, not sure that I should come out 



360 JOHN TODD. 

alive. Even after I was fixed and the knives were out, there 
was hesitation as to the fact of its spinal attachment. It 
took them half an hour to do the cutting ; and, though un- 
conscious, I filled the house with groans ; and yet the sur- 
geons, being so intent in their operation, did not hear me ! 
The tumor lay by the side of the spine, among the great 
nerves, and under the tendons and ligaments of the back. 
It was an inch below the surface, and was of about the size 
of a turkey's egg. They had to pull it out with hooks. But, 
oh, the agony, and the fainting, and the distress, for the next 
twelve hours after I came out of the ether ! I was laid up 
several weeks, very weak ; but it healed kindly, and is now 
entirely icell. It is an unspeakable mercy ; and I tell you of 
it, that you may see that we all have our trials, and the Lord 
knows how to deliver us from them." 

" February 11th. 

"Mr. A thinks of coming back and building a splen- 
did house on the old spot of ground, and living here. I 
sometimes feel almost thankful that I have no spot of child- 
hood to which I long to return." 

"July 21st. 

" We sympathize with Mr. B in the death of his little 

son. We have one in heaven who left us at just about the same 
age. He is an infant still : he alters not. We know that his 
little grave is no longer, and so we can not conceive that he 
is advancing. The blotting-out of one such little bright star 
makes the world seem very dark to us for a long time; but it 
shines brighter in the new sphere to which it is removed." 

"August 2d. 

"I am reading Chalmers's Life with great interest, and, I 
hope, profit. It gives me new views of the way in which 
God leads the blind, and new views of that charity which 
we must entertain concerning those who were not brought 
up just as we were." 

"October 30th. 

" I am expecting to send Mr. to Lee in my place. If 

he suits them, I shall marvel ; and if he does not, he will won- 
der, for he is blessed with a deep conviction of the value of 
his own powers. I hope that Lee will shortly get a minis- 
ter ; for it is hard to be an island for them, and stand against 
the waves that roll toward them." 



LIFE. AT PITTSFIELD. 361 

To John, in College. 

"March 8th, 1853. 

" Only four weeks more to vacation — how soon here ! Let 
us see, you speak to-morrow ! Well, put it through, and re- 
member that the more voice that you have, the less sense 
you need." 

Doctor Todd was once present at a meeting where a 
speech was made by a minister who had a magnificent voice. 
As he was passing down the aisle, after the service, he over- 
heard a humble minister lamenting that he could not make 
such a speech. He immediately touched him on the shoul- 
der, and whispered, " Brother, you must remember that to 
some of us the Lord has given a great voice, and to some of 
us he has given — brains." 

" April 25th. 

"My people have now nearly completed a new church 
edifice, larger far than my church in Philadelphia, built of 
stone, and which in your city would cost at least seventy 
thousand dollars. It will be done in a few weeks, we trust, 
all paid for, and all given, so that the annual rent of the 
slips will support the concern. There is no stock, no owner- 
ship of pews, and no debt. For nearly two and a half years 
we have been building the stone church, and we have all 
that time been like a swarm of bees out of hive and shelter, 
hanging on the limb of a tree. We hope that it will be a 
permanent, large, Pilgrim Rock church, for generations to 
come." 

The church was duly dedicated on the 5th of July. 

"Children of this congregation, this house is built chiefly 
for you. Had we not children whom we loved, and whose 
eternal welfare lay near our hearts, we should not have built 
this edifice. We shall soon pass away, and not need it. But 
you, we hope, will remain — will worship, and praise, and 
honor, and love God here when we are dead. Never for- 
get that as we dedicated this house to the great God, we 
charged you to fill this house, to keep it, and to honor God 
in it, by believing his word, obeying his commands, and re- 
ceiving Jesus Christ as your Saviour — the Way, the Door, 
and the Life." 

24 



362 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER XXYI. 

LIFE AT PITTSFIELD — Continued. 

An Indian's Letter. — An Indian's Eeply. — The Water-cure. — Fitted to 
adorn.— Doctoring a Father-in-law. — An Invitation. — The old Eagle. — 
Oaken Literature.— Gushing Waters.— Death of a Mother. — Slaughtering 
Weapons. — An open Mouth. — A Resignation. — A new Member of the Fam- 
ily. — Gabriel's Complaint. — Trip to the West. — Snows. — Spiritual Long- 
ings. — Surgeons. — A Blow. — Must not Preach. — To Europe. — Not a sound 
Man. — Two Enemies. — The Barber's Shop. — The Dutch Minister. — Rem- 
iniscences. — Description of Pittsfield. — A Flower-garden. — The Busj^Bee. 
— What an Argument! — The Taper and the Sun. 

Rev. Mr. , to Rev. Dr. Todd. 

" May, 1853. 
" Manabozzho, Chief of the Six Nations, to Ms ^Brother, 

Maskwashakwong r , Chief Sachem of the Massachusetts 

Tribes : 

"I have thought much about my brother, as the time is 
drawing near when our chiefs contemplate taking their belts 
of wampum, their knives, and their rifles, in order once more 
to enter upon the war-path ; and I felt sad to think that I 
could obtain no blanket such as I knew that my brother 
would like to have, though I scoured our whole territory in 
order to obtain such a one. Finally, I succeeded in learn- 
ing that such an article might be obtained of one of the 
traders on the island of Manhattan ; and immediately there- 
upon I dispatched one of my young warriors thither, with 
directions to secure it, even though he should lose his scalp- 
lock in tlie attempt. He has returned with the accompanying 
package, which I entreat my brother to accept. My brother 
must first commit it to the care of his renowned squaw, in 
order that it may be thoroughly soaked in water, either cold 
or hot, in consequence of which it will become almost im- 
penetrable to the rifle-bullet itself. Then, when it is dry, 
summon before you your blanket-maker, and command him 
to make for you what the pale-faces call * a pair of panta- 
loons and a tight-fitting coat.' My brother will find suffi- 
cient for both. My brother, if he desires an increase of 
warmth and smoothness, can have his pantaloons lined ; but 



LIFE AT PITTS FIELD. 363 

Manabozzho wears them without lining. My brother must 
likewise command his blanket-maker to make ten or twelve 
little pockets in front, and on the outside of the coat, so that 
he may have every thing convenient, and not mixed up all 
together in one great pouch, as old Cavonicus used to have 
his bullets, and flints, and powder, and tobacco, and tinder- 
box (which he got from a pale-face), all mixed up together; 
and many is the deer and moose that escaped while he was 
getting what he wanted. My brother will do much better 
than that. Farewell." 

THE REPLY. 

"To the great Manabozzho, Head Warrior of the Tliirty-six 
Nations : 

" Great Brother, — Thou hast spoken. Thy words have 
reached my ears, those deep words that come like the voice 
of the far-off loon of the wilderness, mysterious and solemn 
in the depths of night. Thou hast traveled into the far spirit- 
land, and brought back awful and strange words thence con- 
cerning the great one-in-three Spirit. Such words are com- 
forting and strengthening to the spirit-warriors around thee, 
and they make me feel as if on the top of some Katahdin, 
whence I can look over the thick woods and lakes, and see a 
beautiful land which lies over and beyond the farthest mount- 
ain I can see. Thou art great with hook and line, and takest 
up none but such as are big and bright. Thou art great in 
thy hunting, and bringest none but large moose to thy hunt- 
ing-ground. For the thoughts, more than for the characters 
on the white-birch-bark-like leaves, I thank thee. May thy 
rifle never miss fire ! 

"To-day, while in my wigwam, the swift runner brought 
to my hand the new war-blanket, and also thy greetings; 
and my squaw and papooses will bear me witness that over 
both my spirit was glad. Great brother, I know not what 
there may be in all the world, among all the pale-faces, but 
to me it seemeth that no blanket could be better, though 
woven by the hand of that famous squaw, Penelope ; and 
should I ever be wrapped in it in the far-off woods, where 
the owl hooteth, and the frog belloweth, and where the cry 
of the panther is heard, it seemeth to me that I shall feel as 
strong as fire-water, courageous as the yellow wolf, and fierce 



364 JOHN TODD. 

as an old hunter of my family who lived many moons ago, 
and whose name was Nimrod. It seemeth to me that the 
brave who owns such a blanket may shake his finger at that 
old, fierce tribe of warriors called Mosquitoes ; ay, and their 
cousins, the Gnats ; ay, and their allies, the Midges. As soon 
as thy words reached my ears, I put it into the hands of my 
jewel-eyed squaw, and she hath it already in water. And 
thy words about the pouches shall be heeded. And when 
thou seest the blanket all ready, thou wilt mourn that thou 
hast no such squaw to adorn the Big Chief and send him 
forth to meet the dangers of the wilderness. Or if the Big 
Chief hath found a white doe, and brought her to his wig- 
wam, it may be she will be. dull to see how the heavens and 
the earth, the woods and the lakes, the rivers and the brooks, 
all lift up their hands and beckon thy coming, and utter the 
voice, and cry, * Lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and 
gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the sing- 
ing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in 
our land. Rise up, and come away !' I know not, mighty 
chieftain, that my hand can ever repay thee, and send some- 
thing to gladden thine eye ; but I will lay up the blanket in 
the corner of my memory, and charge my heart to be grate- 
ful, and my hand never to forget to. return what it can. Till 
then my thanks must be loud, and my tongue straight. 

" Great brother, I am sorry to hear that thou thinkest of 
removing thy wigwam southward, and leaving the hills and 
the mountains and rivers of the North. Think thee well. 
Wilt thou see fairer skies, mountains more blue, rivers more 
clear, brooks that laugh louder, braves that are truer to thee, 
tribes more glad to listen to thy voice? Will the summer 
cloud there be more silvery, or the spirit of the storm-cloud 
more grand ? Think thee well. It grieveth me to have thee 
turn away thy face and go to sunnier climes. At any rate, 
don't let the voice of men, or even of bright-eyed squaws, 
take thee from thy yearly visit to the wilds, where Health 
sleeps on the rock, where Vigor is drawn up from the ground, 
where Hope comes in the wild dress of Nature, and Courage 
is drunk up from every brook. May the spirit of life and 
of hope ever go and be with thee. 

"From my wigwam, the tenth day of the fifth moon. 

" M ASK WASH AK WONG." 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 365 

During the first part of the year 1854, Doctor Todd's 
health became seriously affected by his long-continued and 
exhausting labors — so much so, that in his summer vacation 
he was driven from his usual resorts in the forests by very 
alarming symptoms, and compelled to take refuge for a short 
time in a water-cure establishment. Here he found tempo- 
rary relief, and began to hope that he would soon be re- 
stored to his accustomed strength. 

"Saratoga, July 26th, 1854. 

" Tell mother that I met a lady last evening who gravely 
told me that she had repeatedly heard it said, ' What a pity 
it was that such a splendid woman as Mrs. Todd should be 
obliged to bury herself all her life in the cares and toils of a 
poor minister's family, when she was fitted to adorn some 
brilliant station !' Oh dear, do ask your mother what I can 
do about it. 

"Best love to all, from the woman 'fitted to adorn' down 
to James, the first boy in Berkshire. Tell them that yester- 
day and to-day I really begin to feel like myself again, and 
shall now, probably, grow handsome every hour." 

To Rev. Joab Brace. 

"August 16 th. 

"My dear Fathee, — Should it afford you any gratifica- 
tion to know that a college, standing high and very sparing 
of its honors, has conferred on you the title of D.D., and if 
this has been brought about by any little agency and in- 
fluence of myself — if, at a time when the shadows of earth 
seem less and less to you, the good opinion of men comes to 
you in a form new and unexpected — you may feel assured 
that your friends who know you best will feel that you de- 
serve all that you receive, and that, for myself, the gift of 
your child to me, at a time when I had neither character 
nor influence, has laid me under obligations which I can 
never express. That your life may be prolonged, and your 
last days made bright by the beams of the Sun of righteous- 
ness, is the prayer of your affectionate son." 

At about this time, an old friend wrote to him, sounding 
him as to his willingness to listen to an invitation from an 
important city church. The following was his reply : 

" September 6th. 

"My very dear Friend, — I give you many, many sincere 



366 JOHN TODD. 

thanks for your kind letter, for your partiality to me, and 
for all your acts of friendship. As to your letter, and the 
inquiries made therein, let me see, what shall I say ? 

"An old eagle sat in his eyrie, where he had been gather- 
ing sticks and building his nest and raising his young for 
many years. He looked off over the lake, on the bank of 
which his eyrie stood, and it was fair and beautiful. The 
trees around him were green and lofty, and their bows waved 
and their leaves rustled whenever he alighted on them. 
The lake afforded him fresh fish; and the blue herons and 
the fish-hawks, the gulls and the loons, all kept at a distance, 
and let the old eagle alone. His family was large, and he 
tried to feed them, and train them so that they might look 
the sun full in the face and fly toward him. At length they 
came to the old eagle, and asked him to remove his eyrie to 
another lake, where the waters were wider and deeper, and 
the fish more abundant — where there were more herons and 
fish-hawks, gulls and loons, to fight away from eating up the 
fish. They told him that his eyrie would be higher, and he 
could see and fly farther. But he said that his lake was al- 
ready as large as his eye could see over, and there were 
more fish than he could take, and his family was too large to 
move, sticks and all, and he feared that the very friends who 
urged him to go would be disappointed in the result. Then 
he looked toward the lake, and saw it not beginning to dry 
up, and at his tree on which his eyrie stood, and it seemed 
to be firm and strong, and gave no signs of decay ; and then 
he looked up toward the deep-blue sky, to see if the angel 
who takes care of eagles was in sight, and beckoning him to 
leave; and not seeing him anywhere, he said to himself, 
'Perhaps I could do more and better to go, and the eyrie 
would be higher, and the fish more abundant ; but I remem- 
ber that when the good angel guided me here, and placed 
me on this high tree, he said, " Stay there, birdie, till I call 
for thee ; and if I think of a place better for thee, I will come 
back and make some sign ;" but he doesn't come and make 
the sign yet.' 

" What say you to the eagle ? Is he not a wiser and safer 
bird than you had supposed ?" 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 367 

To JV. T-* . 

"September 5th. 

"I am glad to learn that the Ministers' Association in 
New York think of republishing some of the genuine old 
Scotch theologians, particularly the writings of John Logan 
and Robert Walker. These are wells of pure and cooling 
waters, refreshing and purifying to those who draw faith- 
fully from them. And a pleasant thought it is, surely, that 
as fashions and tastes change, they wheel in a circle ; and 
that the same unsatisfied desires which are setting aside the 
light, frail, and fragile chairs and tables of our day, and are 
calling back the strong oaken furniture of past generations, 
begin also to turn from the light, small-idea books of the 
present day, and call for the solid, oaken thoughts of other 
days. I hope the willow age is going by, and a more solid 
one returning. Every such valuable old writer that can be 
made to live again should be; and thus, in the cycle of ages, 
may it not be that great and good men who are dead will 
often be reproduced, and still prophesy before many people ? 
My best wishes for your success." 

To J. a H . 

"September 5th. 
" Your very kind note proves to me several things, such 
as that you and I both belong to the Mutual Admiration 
Society, that our partialities and admirations meet about 
half-way between us, that I have the high satisfaction of 
having gained a friend whom I prize most highly, and that 
in the art of letter-writing and beauty of composition I must 
be content to fall immeasurably behind you. As to the cir- 
cumstance to which you allude. . . . And yet I should not 
have wondered if the devil (you know I am orthodox, and 
believe most firmly in the existence and character of this 
ancient and mischievous fellow) had whispered in your left 
ear that if the Pittsfield folks had heeded you some years 
since, their sufferings had been far less, and their enjoyments 
far greater, and that you had almost brought waters to their 
doors and lips, and they would not have them. However, 
when the day comes when waters shall be gushing into ev- 
ery dwelling and room of our village, and when the old man 
and the infant are refreshed and strengthened thereby, it 
will be found that you and Mr. M set the first wheel 



368 JOHN TODD. 

in motion, and really opened the first gate, to let them flow 
in. Thus, my dear sir, seed that we sow comes up in after- 
years ; and thus great blessings may be traced back to small 
sources and remote causes. The bread cast on the waters 
is found after many days. Keep adoing, and in due time 
we shall reap. How I wish I were as young and healthy as 
yourself. Well, God gives us our portion in his own way 
and manner. You are among the very few who need to be 
cautioned not to be too generous, too great-hearted ; and a 
queer thing it is in this world to ask a friend to cultivate 
selfishness. That isn't exactly what I mean ; perhaps I mean 
self-love. My best bow and respects to the wife, whom I 
want to know ; also to my friend, glorious B ." 

In November of this year, Mrs. Todd was suddenly sum- 
moned to Newington to the bedside of her mother, who 
died after a very short sickness. Doctor Todd went down 
to preach the funeral sermon, and to mourn as a son. Mrs. 
Brace had been the only mother that he had ever known, 
and, from his first acquaintance with her, she had been a true 
mother to him. "The home there is gone. Nothing can 
ever make a house cheerful when the mother is gone. It is 
she that makes home." 

11 November 23d. 

"The medical commencement was yesterday, and twenty 
were sent forth, like the angels in Ezekiel, with their slaugh- 
tering weapons in their hands." 

''November 28th. 

"I am going- to Groton next Monday, and to Albany, to 
attend the Missionary Convention, on Wednesday ; I'm apos- 
tolic only in this respect, that my mouth is always open." 

On the 16th of January, 1855, Rev. Doctor Brace completed 
a half century of ministerial labor, and, without resigning 
his pastoral office, retired from active service. 

" January 11th, 1855. 

"My dear Fathee, — You are going through it bravely 
and admirably, and were never gaining honors to yourself 
and to your memory as fast as now. I don't believe that 
five years of common labor would make an impression on 
your people that would be as lasting, and of as much value, 
as these few weeks will do. I never saw a sight in my life 
that delighted me more than that of the feelings and the do- 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 369 

ings of your people, and I trust you will be carried through 
it all, even to the last; and then you must expect, and we 
must all expect, that you will feel a reaction, and pay a ter- 
rible interest for all this excitement. I can not praise you 
enough for the quiet, gentle dignity which you are mani- 
festing before us all, and which will be felt a hundred years 
hence. I think that the next Sabbath will be as trying as 
any day, but, like David, you know how to 'encourage' 
yourself (1 Sam., xxx., 6). I hope to see you in a few days. 
It will never seem like home to any of us again. 'We have 
here no abiding city ; we seek one to come.' You know our 
doors and hearts are open to you, if you say so." 

The invitation contained in the last sentence of this let- 
ter was accepted, and after the close of his active ministry, 
Doctor Brace went to Doctor Todd's house to pass the re- 
mainder of his days. At his coming, Doctor Todd said that 
he felt, "like the centurion, unworthy to have him come un- 
der his roof;" and, during the six years of his stay, waited 
upon him with the same reverential, child - like spirit, and 
treated the infirmities of age with an unruffled temper. 

Not long after his arrival, Doctor Brace said one day, on 
hearing of a young book-keeper's salary, "Why, that is 
more than I ever received in my life !" " Yes," replied Doc- 
tor Todd, " but money is not your reward. Suppose Gabriel 
should say, 'I haven't any money. I don't receive any in- 
come ; I'm poor.' ' Why, Gabriel, you are the strong angel ; 
you stand in the presence of the Most High.' 'Oh yes; but 
there's John Jacob Astor with ever so many millions, and I 
never had a thousand dollars in my life.' " 

In the latter part of this winter, Doctor Todd, accompa- 
nied by his wife, made an extensive lecturing tour through 
the West, and was everywhere' received with great atten- 
tion. It was the only visit that he ever made to the Far 
West, and at this time he saw but little of the country, for 
it was buried under snows of unusual depth. For twenty- 
one successive days snow fell more or less every day ; roads 
were blocked, locomotives disabled, and trains blockaded. 
At one place he barely escaped with his life. The sleigh in 
which he was crossing a river broke through the ice, and 
was with difficulty drawn out of the water. 



370 JOHN TODD. 

To B. B. C — 



" March 2d. 

"I wish I could tell you of my journey, how they got me 
into the Maumee River, and I barely escaped with my life ; 
how I visited the cities of the West, and spoke to twenty- 
two different audiences in twenty-six days that I was gone ; 
how I saw young men whom I had known in Philadelphia, 
and in New England, and everywhere else; how I was 
treated with a kindness and respect utterly beyond my de- 
serts ; how I had a terrible cold all the time, and went away 
sick and dizzy in the head, and have returned better and 
more hopeful. 

" You ask me what my plans are. I have none, but to 
work every day as the day returns. I have a heavy burden 
on niy mind and heart, in my large family, and large people, 
and many calls of duty and of labor. Last autumn I had a 
most kind invitation to go elsewhere ; but the old eagle 
kept in his eyrie, and moved not. I know there is many a 
spot far up the hill of Zion, where the airs are pure, the sun 
is bright, and the vision is clear, and I sometimes have the 
faint hope that I am going up the hill, and pausing at these 
places ; but I wish that I could hear the whisper of angels, 
and feel the breathings of the blessed, and hear the rustling 
of the wings of the Holy Dove, plainer than I do. I know 
there are cool walks, and smooth paths, and murmuring 
brooks, and sweet flowers in the valley of Sharon, and I 
know that One walks there who is altogether lovely, and I 
sometimes feel that I should love to walk down deep in that 
valley; but I wish that I could feel more plainly the cool 
of those shades, and perceive more clearly the spices which 
the south winds waft there from the garden of the Lord. I 
thank God I have passed over the hill of Ambition, and am 
no more afraid lest my feet slide in its sandy sides. The 
trees of earth are not so tall as they once were, nor their 
fruit so fair; but God has given me unnumbered mercies, 
for which I try to praise him. Not among the least of my 
joys and mercies is the fact that now and then he gives me 
such a friend as the one who is now reading the tracings 

of my pen. God bless you, dear C , now and forever! 

Let me live in your prayers, as I do in your memory. 
Should you outlive me, let my children share in the love 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 371 

of their father's friend. Our united love and deep remem- 
brance to all of the dear circle who gather around you. 
Tell them that my head is turning gray, and time is setting 
me onward ; but my heart is no colder to them than when I 
left your city. Thanks, many thanks, and, once more, adieu." 
Soon after his return from the West, he was obliged, by 
increasing infirmities, to put himself more than once in the 
hands of the surgeons, and to. endure sufferings which com- 
pletely prostrated him. 

To B. B. C . 

"June 1st. 

"You know you have always insisted that I should keep 
you advised of the dealings of Providence with me, whether 
in the sunshine or under the clouds. For more than eight 
weeks I have been shut up under very great sufferings. I 
am very weak, and greatly in want of courage, strength, and 
hope. My physicians now say I must stop preaching for 
four months more, and spend all that time in recovering my 
health. You can hardly imagine what a blow this is to me. 
My family is very large, my oldest daughter a confirmed in- 
valid, Mrs. Todd much worn down, her father living with 
us. Add to this, John is just about to graduate, and he 
wants to go to the Theological Seminary at Andover, and it 
is not in my power to send him ; for I find, after having 
been licensed to preach the Gospel thirty years next week, 
that I am so poor that I must borrow to defray my expenses 
this summer. Where to go, or what to do, or how to do, I 
know not. For the present, I expect to hang on and off 
Saratoga, till I see what I can, or can not, do. You will 
say, 'Why, four months, how soon over!' True, but is it 
certain that I shall be well then ? Is it certain that God 
will let me live and work longer? I am sure I have done 
so little, and that so poorly, and with such poor motives, 
that he will not do as man would do, if he does. Let me 
find a place in your prayers, as well as in your love and 
sympathy. 

"My physicians have decided that for six months I can 
not preach ; and my friends are trying to raise a purse to 
send me out of the country. How sad my heart is, to have 
to drop all and leave preaching, none can know ; and how 
earnestly I pray that I may yet live, and recover, and do 



372 JOHN TODD. 

some little good, you can imagine. I am walking in the 
dark." 

His people found no difficulty in raising among them- 
selves a sum of money sufficient to enable their pastor to 
travel for six months, and to this some of his old friends in 
Philadelphia sent a generous addition. The latter called 
forth the following acknowledgment : 

To B. B. C . 

"June 14th. 

" My veey dear Friend, — What should we do if we had 
not friends ! and, above all, that great Friend whose kind- 
ness never wearies, whose compassion never fails ! I feel 
humbled when I see myself falling upon the generosity of 
my friends, because I feel that I have not deserved this at 
their hands ; and most earnestly do I pray that I may not 
receive all my good things in this life. I beg you to express 
my sincerest gratitude to yourself and my other friends who 
have so kindly and nobly remembered me. Is it not mar- 
velous, that after thirteen years' absence I should thus live 
in the hearts of my once-beloved flock? Oh, this fact is 
greater to me than all the money in the world ! I know it 
is asking too much for you to come and see me, and I dare 
not expect it ; but be assured there is hardly a face this 
side of heaven that I would be so glad to see. If I may see 
you, glad, glad ; if not, may I ask you to remember me when 
you stand nearest to the throne, and when most under the 
shadow of the wing of the Almighty Redeemer?" 

It was near' the close of the year when Doctor Todd re- 
turned from Europe, very much invigorated. 

To B. B. C . 

" January 7th, 1856. 
" I am not a sound man, but probably am as well as I 
may ever expect to be in this world. I am hard at work in 
my great parish. You don't know how much pleasure I an- 
ticipate in seeing you. What will the meeting of friends 
be in heaven ! Did I tell you that Sarah is about making a 
profession of religion ? Ah, if our children may be jewels in 
the crown of Christ, what can we want for them more ?" 

To B. B. C . 

"April llth. 

"Do you know two bitter enemies of mine, who follow 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 373 

me, and haunt me, and almost ruin all my peace ? The 
wretches ! I can hardly contain myself when I think of the 
mischief they have done me ! Their names are Procrastina- 
tion and Indolence ; and they look so much alike that I 
hardly know which is which. Alas ! were it not that these 
fellows had got hold of me, and borne me down like the 
nightmare (they are a kind of day -mare !), I should long 
since have written you. 

"As to the book of travels, I confess my fear that I could 
make nothing that would go any length of time or way. But 
one thing I have achieved ! Congratulate me ! I have act- 
ually delivered one lecture on Europe in Pittsfield — by giv- 
ing the avails to the library here. It has but just been done. 
So you see how a prophet is appreciated at home. I don't 
suppose that Alexander himself was considered any thing 
very great at home — or would have been, had he been noth- 
ing bat a country pastor. Then, as to the volume of ser- 
mons; I have been reading the volume of Mr. Barnes's, 
which you sent me, and magnificent sermons they are, and 
I say to myself, ' You foolish fellow, if such sermons as those 
are not appreciated, and will not sell or be read, what can 
you do?' And the foolish fellow replies, 'Verily, there is 
weight in the saying, and I will not be too hasty.' I wish 
you would tell me how to convert sinners, how to rouse up 
saints, how to do the work of a messenger of life. How I 
think over the pleasant hours I spent in your family and in 
your city, during my last visit ! It was truly a green spot 
in life's pilgrimage. Our snow-banks are failing, though 
they freely discount still. March lays his head in the lap 
of April, and teaches that sister to blow as if it were fun." 

To Lady V . 

"April 25th. 
"Last autumn, as I was in a barber's shop at Marseilles, 
there came in a young man, an entire stranger, but whose 
voice led me to speak to him as an American. I found he 
was from Baltimore, of very respectable parentage, not very 
well, and cast afloat, like a solitary flower, on the great 
ocean, without a father's experience and advice to guide 
him, or a mother's love to cover his head with her prayers. 
He was an orphan in a strange land, seeking health, with 
no one to aid him to find paths that are right, or to shun 



374 JOHN TODD. 

those that are wrong. I invited him to go with me to Par- 
is, which he did, roomed next to me, kept with me, and went 
with me to the sight-seeings of Paris, With the assistance 
of a pious friend, I got him into a good Christian French 
family for the winter, and felt relief. He then went with 
me to London, Oxford, Stratford-on-Avon, Warwick, Kenil- 
worth, etc. I introduced him to a kind Quaker hotel in 
London, and to a true theological student in that city. He 
kept with me till I took the steamer for home, when he re- 
turned to Paris, according to our arrangement. Since then, 
a friend has written me that he has been sick at Paris. This 
information I immediately communicated to his friends. 
This is the last that I have heard of poor S , till the let- 
ter of your husband came, a few days since, informing me 
that he is sick at Torquay, and that his sickness is alarming. 
I lost no time in communicating with his friends, beseeching 
them to go to him or to send for him, but have as yet re- 
ceived no reply. Your ladyship will see that my interest in 
the young man is only that of an almost entire stranger; 
and yet it is so deep that, had I the means, I should cross 
the ocean to see him without hesitation. I shall write him 
by this mail, and any kindness which your good heart may 
prompt you to do for him will receive its reward from Him 
who thinks of the stranger and the fatherless." 

To Rev. J. De L , Amsterdam, Holland. 

"June 7th. 
"I am afrard you will think me almost a bear, in selfish 
forgetfulness of you and of your kind letter. But our bears 
sometimes hug people when they get hold of them, and, 
could I get hold of you, I should do little less. You may be 
sure that so long as I live I shall never forget you or the 
Sabbath I spent at your house. Doesn't it all rise up be- 
fore me now, so that I still see the wide Zuyder-Zee, that 
sweeps down and fairly kisses the old city, and the hundreds 
of windmills all around throwing out their arms and strik- 
ing the air with all their mi^ht? and don't I see the old 
canals running in all directions, with their boats and their 
bridges, their clean little Dutch vessels and water-tanks, and 
the tall houses and narrow streets? and don't I see the 
Blum-market, where the flowers are so abundant and so gor- 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 375 

geous ? and don't I see No. 16, where I meet you in the front 
room so curiously papered ; and good Mrs. De L— — , who 
gives me all the English she is mistress of in bidding me 
welcome; and the little boy, who looks at me and asks if I 
am a ' believer-man ?' and don't I see the chapel full of peo- 
ple with their hats on, and see you in the pulpit, and hear 
your sweet voice, and sit and cry like a very baby because 
I can't understand a word you say or sing? and don't I see 
my upper chamber, next to your charming study, where I 
hear your voice singing in beautiful Dutch, while in my 
room, under the thick folding curtains of my bed, where the 
paper of the room hangs so smooth, but never touches the 
walls; and your schools of sewers, and the little creatures 
so happy and multitudinous in the infant -school -room? 
Ah, don't I see it all yet, and think of my visit with you as 
one of the bright spots of my life ? I have not looked at 
my journal since I was there; but here it is, as fresh as if it 
were but yesterday. The stranger from the far-off land 
whom you received so kindly will never forget you or your 
dear family." 

"Well (as we Americans say), after leaving you, I wan- 
dered up the Rhine to Frankfort-on-the-Main, thence through 
Hanover to Hamburg, to Denmark, then back through Prus- 
sia, Austria, Bohemia, Styria, Tyrol, Bavaria, Switzerland to 
Geneva, Chamounix to Milan, Venice, Florence, Leghorn, 
Rome, Naples, France, England, and then across the great 
floods to my home, having traveled over twelve thousand 
miles. The wandering bird found the nest all safe, and the 
birdlings in it. The hawk had not plundered it, and the ser- 
pent had not invaded it. And now how strange my home 
would seem to you, could you be put down at once by me ! 
Do you see? We are in a little valley which the Indians 
used to call the Housatonic (the river of the hills) ; we are 
surrounded by high, wood- covered, green -mantled mount- 
ains; and our rivers and brooks do not lie still as yours do, 
but they run and leap, and murmur and roar. We are not 
diking out the sea, as you are, for we are at least twelve 
hundred English feet above it. You would see our wide 
streets shaded with our own sugar- maples and lofty elms, 
and our white houses surrounded with shrubbery and roses, 
with our stores and shops of brick; while in the centre is 



376 JOHN TODD. 

the house of the Lord, around which all the village clusters, 
like Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus. If you will go with 
me on the Sabbath morning, we will go to a great stone 
church, where I met my beloved flock on my return, and 
where they would gladly meet you ; for I have told them 
all about you, and what you are doing. And now you have 
preached to my people, and they seem cold to you; but 
never mind, we are like your own Dutch stoves — slow to 
heat up, but we retain our heat finely, after we get warm. 
Stop now, if you please ; don't look at my high church, with 
its simple arches and pillars; I want you to look at my 
flower-garden — yes, my flower-garden: there it is — my 
Sabbath-school ; all those teachers and bright scholars : how 
they look at you, and their eyes flash a welcome upon you, 
and they want to extend their little hands to you! They 
are our own children, our jewels, heart-blossoms, whom we 

are training up for Jesus Christ. O Brother De L , you 

can't speak to them ; you are not here, we do not see you, we 
do not hear your voice ; but we believe you are in Holland, 
and are at work for our Redeemer, and we love you for your 
work's sake ; and these dear children have commissioned 
me to salute you in their name, and beg you to accept the 
inclosed, to aid you in carrying on your schools for little 
children. If their gift shall make any of your little ones as 
happy as it makes us in sending it, it will be thrice blessed. 
The good Lord accept it, and you, and us ! 

" Since writing the above, the ' Busy Bee,' a society of 
little girls, though they are every day growing up toward 
great girls, have handed me thirty dollars more. This so- 
ciety, if they were turned into algebra, might be called co- 
efficients — the most active bees that ever gathered honey. 
Now, don't you believe that we have jewels here? though 
we do g-o all the way from New York to buy diamonds of 
your Jews in Amsterdam ! Why, we would not give one of 
these jewels for a hatful of your diamonds ! I w r ish I could 
send you a daguerreotype of all of them ; but the great 
Master has their images and names in his keeping." 

To B. B. C . 

" September 22d. 
" You complain of a certain cold heart you wot of. Alas ! 
if you begin on that theme, and each of us begins to tell all 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 377 

he knows and feels, and doesnH feel, on that subject, we shall 
want quires of paper, instead of sheets. How infinite Holi- 
ness can desire such hearts in heaven, or even receive them, 
is one of the deep mysteries of God's love. Did you ever 
think what an argument David uses: 'Pardon mine iniquity, 

Lord, for it is great P What an argument! 'for it is 
great,' and therefore none but God could or would pardon 
it. It is a work worthy of God. Alas ! alas ! I have a 
larger body of sin and death to carry round, and all the evi- 
dence I can sometimes get that my hope is not utterly 
worthless is, that I think that if I am lost and thrown away, 

1 shall see it to be so just that the mouth will be stopped 
and every murmur hushed. I am trying to commit my fam- 
ily all to God's wisdom, and leave all the future of this life 
in his hands — to labor as long as he permits, and, I hope, 
cheerfully to retire when he says, ' Stop.' As to your heart 
and your state, do something for Christ every day, and you 
will grow warm. He can lift the universe, but will reward 
us for lifting a straw. He has but to say, ' I am he !' and his 
enemies go backward and fall on the ground ; and yet he 
will reward us for saying that Christ is he, the Saviour, 
though nobody cares what we say. He is the Sun, and yet 
wants us to light our tapers, and show men the way to the 
Sun. They look so low, they may see the taper, when they 
won't look up to see the Sun." 

25 



378 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

LIFE AT PITTSFIELD — COlltlUUed. 

The Burden of Souls.— A Wedding.— A Todd Trade.— A Storm.— Solitary.— 
"My Father's House."— Not Unhappy. —A cold People.— The old Wheel- 
horse. — "We stand on Character." — The sick Daughter. — A Son in the 
Pulpit. — Diphtheria. — The World Mad. — Death of Doctor Humphrey. — 
Death of Doctor Brace. —The old Father. — Stopped in the Pulpit.— A 
queer Infirmity. — The War. — "Ye are Idle." — " Tendresse maternelle." — A. 
River of Providence. — A lean Ministry. — Economy. — Horseback. — A Let- 
ter from the West. — An Accident. — Clinging to Life. — Going. — Mary 
Slept.— A Vacancy.— Polished Diamonds.— The Garden of Hope. 

To B. B. C , 

"January 20th, 1857. 
"Foe the last five or six weeks there has been a very un- 
usual and deep solemnity on the minds of my people. All 
our meetings are full, and solemn as the grave, and the 
work has thus far been deepening. I have preached twice 
or thrice between the Sabbaths, and held prayer-meetings. 
I have labored as much, to say the least, with the church as 
with the unconverted. I have felt that to have conversions, 
and have the converts come in and set out in the Christian 
life on the low platform on which we were, would be no gain 
and no strength, and that we might thus pass through a re- 
vival of religion, and come out actually weaker than when 
we began. Hence I have been trying to get my church up 
on a higher platform of piety than we were on, and thus 
' the living epistle ' would be of some value in the future. 
I hope and believe that I shall not be entirely disappointed. 
As to converts, eleven united with my church at the last 
communion, and about fifty more are indulging hopes. But 
oh dear ! how many labors and anxieties and prayers it costs 
to get one sinner to Jesus Christ ! My body has ^unk, and 
my mind become jaded, and my heart fainted under the bur- 
dens. Oh, Aarons and Hurs, where are ye, that I may lean 
on you ? I don't think I have for many years felt the bur- 
den of souls lie on my heart as of late. Whether the Great 
Master does it to let me see how much I have to account 



LIFE AT PITTS FIELD. 379 

for, or how impotent I am to save a soul, or how much he 
means to do for my flock, I know not. I have sometimes 
felt that my work is almost over, and that he is permitting 
me to see a few more sheaves gathered in before I lay down 

my commission. Oh, C , life looks barren and lost, in 

looking back on a ministry of thirty years. God give you a 
richer field to look back upon !" 

To B. B. C . 

"March 4th. 

" Can you possibly be with us at Martha's marriage next 
Wednesday? If any thing could gladden me at the sad 
hour of feeling that my child has gone from me for life, it 
would be to have you with us. Her home is to be Nashua, 
New Hampshire, where Mr. Hill is settled over a large 
church. 

"We have a delightful revival among my people; the 
church has come up wonderfully ; meetings are almost daily, 
full, solemn, and pleasant. There have been, I trust, many 
conversions ; and among them I count our dear Lucy, thus 
making five out of our seven whom we hope to see as jewels 
in the crown of Christ. I have had no help, and my work- 
ing hours have been constant, and my anxieties far more 
heavy than I can describe. Such seasons make heavy di*afts 
upon the heart of the pastor. 

"I know how busy and how driven you are ; but I want 
often to hear from you, and to know that the rainbow arches 
over your home, and the morning angel sings at your gates. 
My head whitens with age and care, and probably the wings 
of my mind droop, and the visions of earth every day grow 
more and more dim ; but Hope still sings of a better future, 
and the eye looks over the river for green sights." 

To Biccy, at School in Groton. 

" April 10th. 
" Your letter about your journey was just right, and such 
as did us all good — very minute and graphic. The art, or 
one art, of letter- writing is, to say little things naturally, 
and, therefore, they will be graceful. It seems to make a 
great vacancy in our number to have you gone. It has come 
to be the time of day with me when I must begin to look to 
my children for enjoyment, hope, and brightness." 



380 JOHN TODD. 

To Mrs. Todd. 

"May 9th. 
"James cried hard after you during all the first day after 
you left, but is now on the recovery, and has made money 
by exchanging his iron hoop and hook for a scaly wooden 
one — a perfect Todd trade !" 

To B. B. C . 

"November 16th. 

" I suppose that of late you have had too many anxieties 
and business troubles to wish to write or be written to ; but 
when the fragments of broken ships are coming to land, and 
the wrecked are creeping up on the sands, we want to know 
who is alive and who is bruised. The storm came so sud- 
denly, and with such power, that there was no time for reef- 
ing, and many a really good ship has been thrown upon her 
beam -ends. In this community, where we live almost en- 
tirely by manufacturing, we have been taken all aback. A 
few months since, there were supposed to be three millions 
of property in my congregation ; and now it is almost im- 
possible to get money enough to pay for postage -stamps. 
Our factories are mostly at a dead stand. The wheels of in- 
dustry are all stopped, if not broken. Avarice howls in 
amazement; the temples of Mammon ring hollow; and Fash- 
ion offers to make her own shroud, if you will only give her 
the coarsest materials. But I think that the result will be 
good for the churches of Christ, and will lead many to see 
that, like the birds, when the trees were green and the leaves 
abundant, they built their nests in places not very secure. 
The leaves fall off, and we wonder how we could have built 
there. I presume that you have suffered personally — who 
has not ? — and that care and anxiety and sympathy for oth- 
ers have left new lines upon your face. Well, my dear friend, 
if you have been honest, and done right in and through it all, 
as I doubt not you have, you need not worry about the rest. 

"As for me, I preach to a very great assembly on the Sab- 
bath (there is but one pew in my church which is not rented, 
and yesterday not one empty, above or below) ; I preach ev- 
ery Wednesday evening, attend a prayer-meeting on Friday 
evening, and lecture every week to the young ladies at Ma- 
plewood Institute, to pay my children's tuition, to say noth- 
ing about my quill, speech-making, etc. But I am a poor 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 381 

creature; arid if you hear that the Master lays roe up on the 
shelf soon, don't wonder at it. I don't know that my people 
were ever more constant at meeting, ever gave better atten- 
tion to my preaching, ever paid me more respect ; but it is 
so cold, so distant, that I feel solitary. Never one comes up 
and says, ' Sir, you have removed some doubts that troubled 
me,' or, ' I feel strengthened by those views,' or, c I thank you 
for that particular train of thought ;' no one ever asks me, 
c Sir, are you comfortably off?' or, 'Are you getting along 
well ?' or, ' Don't you need to stop and rest awhile ?' or, ' Can 
I do any thing for you?' I never feel the breath of sympa- 
thy, to say nothing about flattery. And yet they would not 
fill the church, and hang like icicles, as they do, if they were 
dissatisfied, and do it year after year. Oh dear ! I hope 
heaven will be a warmer world than this ! And yet they 
never come to me with fault - finding ; they let me come 
and go, and do what I will and as I will, and never trouble 
me. 

" I want to know all how and where you are ; sitting, I 
trust, under Nathanael's fig-tree, with the eye of the great 
Redeemer upon you for good. We shall probably never 
live together in this world; but it will not be long before 
we shall be in a better one, where the burdens of life will all 
be laid down, and the weary one at rest. Shall Zever be 
there ? I seem to feel that there are few so unlikely, and few 
so far from it, if moral fitness and holiness be the condition. 
Alas ! my Father's house is seen no more plainly than when 
I began to ascend the hill of life, and the mists and shadows 
that hang over the inheritance of God's children seem to be 
no nearer being lifted off. Is my title-deed safe? God 
bless you and yours, my dear friend, and may the golden 
dust of the angels' wings every day drop in your path !" 

To his Sister Elizabeth. 

"May 15th. 
" I have intended, every day, to write ; but every day had 
new sorrows, or troubles, or duties. I have had much to do ; 
for, though there has been no revival among us, I have at- 
tended ten or eleven meetings every week. In the next 
place, I have been very much out of health, have been under 
the surgeon's tender mercies three times, and am hardly able 
to say that I am better." 



382 JOHN TODD. 

To JB. B. C— 



"June22d. 

"My courage and self-reliance are failing continually. 
Though I have no new theories in religion, and hold to the 
old landmarks, and preach the same old doctrines that I 
did when we were together, yet I sometimes catch a new 
thought, and have a new ray of light break in upon me 
from, I humbly hope, the Father of all lights. I should re- 
gret to have you draw from my letters that I am discon- 
tented or unhappy; if I am, it all arises from imperfections 
and sins within, and not from outward circumstances. In 
money I am poor, and always shall be. In position, I have 
enough to do, responsibility sufficient to bear, and all the 
respect and influence that I deserve. And yet the warfare 
within is not terminated, the victory is not yet achieved, and 
the song of triumph is not yet sung. I am too often trying 
to hold a light for other footsteps, while my own are in the 
dark. But Berridge says that the name of him who plucks 

us from the burning is Holdfast I wish that I had 

something to return for all your kindnesses ; but when shall 
I have ? I belong to the great family of Debtors, a very 
old, if not a respectable, family, and it's too late for me to 
deny my relationship." 

" October 6th. 

" It makes me sad to go and come and not have my peo- 
ple know that I have been away. Not a soul bade me good- 
bye ; not a soul came to welcome me back. I do hope that 
when I die they will bury me with great propriety." 

To 31. H. F . 

"November 8th. 
" It is a long time since I have written to you ; but it 
has only been put off in the hope, from time to time, that I 
should be able to command more time, and do the thing up 
with more propriety, and more to my own satisfaction, if not 
to yours. But leisure never comes to me, and seasons and 
flashes of inspiration are too seldom ; and you might as well 
expect the old wheel-horse of the mountain stage to play 
the colt, and run and kick up his heels, as to expect me to 
break out in strains eloquent, original, or interesting. The 
angel of poetry, if he ever flew near me, has long since 
shaken out all the gold-dust he had in his wings." 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 3 S3 

To Sarah and Lucy, teaching in Kentucky. 

"November 24th. 

"Do tell me all about your tableaux, and your Thanks- 
giving, and your calls, and your visits, and your teaching. 
I hope you are faithful therein, and eminently successful. 
See every thing you can, without sacrificing the character 
of a lady. Don't feel that you are to be affected by the 
question of money, as they are around you; but remember 
that ice stand on character" 

For more than ten years, Mary, his eldest child, had been 
slowly sinking under the power of an unknown disease. Ev- 
ery possible remedy had been tried ; she had been sent, at 
immense expense and sacrifice, to medical institutions of 
every kind ; and physicians of every school, and some of 
them among the most eminent in the country, had been sum- 
moned to prescribe for her ; but all in vain : it had now be- 
come evident that, so long as she lived, she would be a help- 
less sufferer. 

"December 25 th. 

" Mary is about the same ; but the angel of hope, as he 
looks in upon her, shakes less and less gold from his wings, 
and the poor thing has come to the conclusion that she will 
never again walk a step in this life. Thank God, she is 
cheerful, and sheds fewer tears than I do over her situation, 
though neither of us tells the other the secrets and the sor- 
rows of the heart. While Zlive, the poor thing will be cared 
for; and when I am dead, will not some kind hand be raised 
up to minister to her ? Why should I distrust ?" 

To B. B. G . 

"February 7th, 1859. 
"At the close of the services yesterday morning, I said to 
my congregation that it was an uncommon thing for a min- 
ister to introduce his own son into the ministry ; that, dur- 
ing the seventeen years that I had been their pastor, I had 
had trials which I had not designedly been forward to ob- 
trude upon them, and also blessings for which I hoped that 
I had been thankful ; that I proposed in the afternoon to in- 
troduce my son to preach his first sermon, and perform his 
first public service before them, and besought their kind 
sympathy toward youth and inexperience. I wanted to dis- 
arm criticism. The people thought me almost mad to do it, 



384 JOHN TODD. 

and him rnad for doing it ; even Doctor H thought it 

would be better to have him preach somewhere else first. 
So in the afternoon my great church was crowded with peo- 
ple, and all in a state to sympathize. What would I not 
have given t<* have you present ! You can't think what a 
time it was ; how he went through the services amidst more 
tears than I ever saw shed in that house before ; and how I 
was as cool as a wooden clock till it was all over, and then 
— the tears — they would come ! 

"I thank you for Mr. Barnes's 'Sixty Years' Sermon;' 
and when you meet him, I want you to thank him, in my 
behalf, for that cheerful, gladsome light in which he sees 
things, and which he so beautifully sheds all around him. 
It is truly a luxury to find one man at three-score who has 
not become in the least acid, and who can allow that all 
that is good and great and bright on earth is not clean 
gone forever. To me men and things look smaller and 
smaller; but, in every light in which I can look at it, the 
kingdom of Christ looms up larger and more important." 

To B. B. C . 

" September 12th. 

"At the present time we are very anxious about Lucy, 
and are sparing nothing to obtain the best medical skill for 
her. She must receive help soon, or my bright flower fades. 
It is a fearful time when you see the angel of woe poised on 
his wings near you, and you are watching to see if it is upon 
your family that he is to pour his vial. We shudder lest 
he fold his wings and pause before our door. Take all the 
comfort you can with your children note, I pray you, for 
as they grow up your anxieties will be immeasurably aug- 
mented." 

To his Brother William. 

" February 16th, 1861. 

"I have been very sick with the diphtheria, and am just 
creeping up, though weak and feeble. For a long time I 
had two doctors twice a day, and twice a day had my throat 
excoriated with nitrate of silver ; and when that was some- 
what better, I had such a prostration of strength, that it 
seemed as if I could never rally. It seems all a. troubled 
dream to me, but it was undoubtedly a narrow escape from 
the grave." 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 385 

On account of his prostration, his physicians prescribed 
great quantities of brandy. One morning one of his parish- 
ioners met another who loved a joke, and asked, anxiously, 
" How is Doctor Todd getting along, do you know ?" " Pret- 
ty well, I believe," was the reply ; " the only danger now is 
— delirium tremens." 

"Does it seem possible to you that I am sixty years old, 
and have been thirty-five years preaching the Gospel? 
What a dream is life ! And how little in the field that we 
have been cultivating now looks green and fair ! 

"Did you and I ever expect to outlive the union of our 
couutry ? Is the whole world mad ? Did you ever see the 
world so full of fools, all as mad as March hares ? Where 
we shall drift to, or where come out, the Lord only knows. 
Well, I mean to plant a few potatoes, and make my gar- 
den as usual, and leave the country and the world in God's 
hands." 

In the month of April Doctor Todd was called to part 
with two venerable ministers, who had for years been his 
parishioners, and had always found him respectable, affec- 
tionate, and faithful as an own son. They had enjoyed the 
evening of life, and now finished their course, together. 
The venerable Doctor Humphrey was the first to go ; and 
he was followed, after a short but painful sickness, by Doc- 
tor Brace. Of the latter, Doctor Todd wrote : 

" When I first knew him, he was in the glory of his clays, 
nearly six feet high, straight, finely built, strong, and vigor- 
ous. His hair was curling and beautiful. His teeth even, 
and very white. His eye large, black, and brilliant as a 
diamond. His forehead was lofty and commanding. His 
lips somewhat compressed, and the whole impress of his 
character was, that he was a man decided and hard to be 
moved, capable of great mental labor, quick of apprehen- 
sion, and devoted to his one work. To see him, in the mel- 
low ripeness of years, so calm, so bright, so cheerful, and so 
loving, you would have no idea of the rough, stern, and 
hard materials out of which that character was formed. To 
see him denying himself almost in clothing and in comforts, 
that he might annually give more in charity to spread the 
Gospel than many whole churches, you would not think 
that he did this contrary to strong natural tendencies. His 



386 JOHN TODD. 

character was one of great simplicity. He made conscience 
of every thing, great and small. He would often ask if he 
had any duty, or if he had done his duty, as to this or that. 
This conscientiousness embraced his dealings, his studies, 
his dress, and even his sleep. Religion was the work of his 
life ; and it pervaded, transformed, purified, altered, adorned, 
and beautified the whole man. He spent most of his time 
for the last six years in studying the Scriptures, meditation, 
and prayer. His love for the Word of God exceeded that 
of any other man that I ever knew. He daily read it in dif- 
ferent languages, in five of which he was nearly perfect. 
He began the study of Hebrew at forty-five, and for the last 
thirty-five years has had a familiarity with that language 
seldom equaled. During his last sickness, when his mind 
was clouded on other subjects, the Scriptures lay in his soul 
like a well of pure, deep waters, every few moments gushing 
up with unrivaled beauty. He would even then mention a 
verse in English, and then put it into Greek, and next into 
Hebrew, with entire accuracy. In prayer he brought in the 
Scriptures so appropriately and beautifully, that it seemed 
like weaving a cloth of gold without the coldness of the 
brilliant metal ; and I have often been astonished to hear 
him take such passages as the Hebrew names in Chronicles, 
and use them in prayer most naturally and instructively. 
You seemed to feel that the very thorn-bushes were loaded 
with fruit, and wondered that you had never seen it before. 
We seldom, if ever, heard his equal in prayer. We have 
heard others pray as earnestly, as tenderly, and as fluently; 
but we never saw the man who was his equal in lifting an 
audience up to the very throne of God, and holding them 
there till they felt the very dews of heaven falling fast and 
cool upon them. His last sickness was one of terrible suf- 
ferings; the pains which others suffer all the way through 
life seemed to be condensed and laid upon him. Much of the 
time his mind was overpowered by disease, and always in ag- 
onizing pain, but even then his spirit was beautiful and child- 
like. Not an expression escaped him inappropriate, or which 
you would wish altered. Much of the time was spent, even in 
these circumstances, in quoting the Scriptures and in prayer; 
and every thought was in the line of religion. He wanted 
prayer in his room even longer than he could command his 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 387 

thoughts to follow it fully. And when at last, in the silent, 
hushed chamber, the messenger came, in the arms of his 
children he breathed out his soul as softly as the rose shuts 
her leaves at night. For many minutes we knew not in 
which world to think of him. Oh, father dear, dear ! we, 
thy children, will try to take up thy mantle, and walk in 
thy steps, and feel that thy warm breath is upon us, while 
we seek to follow thy example." 

It is evident that from a father whom he held in such 
estimation, and with whom he had been in constant and in- 
timate correspondence and communication for nearly forty 
years, the son must have received many influences which 
went to form and modify his own character. 

"April 16th. 

"Last Sabbath morning, in the pulpit in the first prayer, 
I gave out, and stopped — a dizziness in the head and brain, 
and a cold sweat over the whole body. I had presence of 
mind enough left to tell the congregation that I was over- 
worked, and could not go on. The gentlemen helped me 
down from the pulpit, marched me out, carriaged me, and 
brought me home. The doctor pronounced it over-mental 
labor, gave me no medicine, and ordered me to go out and 
work on my farm ; but there has been, and is, and is to be, I 
fear, such a horrible snow-storm here that there's no such 
thing as getting out." 

"May 6th. 

"All mind, and thought, and feeling here are absorbed in 
the war; and I am afraid that even good people are too 
blood-thirsty in their feelings and prayers." 

" June 3d. 

"It may be true that I don't write to my friends as often 
as I would, but they may feel assured that they live in my 
heart as warmly, and in my memory as freshly, as if I wrote 
every week. Indeed, I consider it one of my infirmities that 
I can't forget my friends." 

To B. B. C . 

"September 9th. 

" We talk, we read, we think, we dream of nothing but 

the war. Now, my good friend, don't you think that if you 

and I had the ordering of things, we should order them very 

differently? Truly we should. But, could we see the end 



388 JOHN TODD. 

from the beginning, so as not to get all things so snarled up, 
that, to move or to stand still, would be a wide ruin ? Dear 
me ! if we can't manage our own heart and conscience and 
will, what should we do if we had a nation or a world to 
manage ? Now, don't you wish that you had wealth, so that 
you could retire, and get away from all this noise and strife 
and struggle, and have quiet? Ah yes, but instead of being 

my C , whose face I look at in my parlor every day, and 

who is now so kind, so humble, and so generous, you would 
be some old, avaricious, sour fellow, who would feel like an 
old pigeon which had gathered a great heap of grain, and 
must now flutter and fight over it, to keep all the pigeons 
in the land from picking it away from him^-whom nobody 
would love or esteem. Now, you don't have to worry about 
an estate which you may lose in a day, nor about a coun- 
try which is already dishonored, and may be a ruin within a 
week, nor about battles which are the fulcrums on which 
the destinies of unborn ages are poised, nor about a Govern- 
ment which is in danger of being crushed by its weakness, 
or of becoming an iron despotism in its strength. No, you 
are not troubled by any of these things; for you have a 
pavilion, even faith, into which you may enter till the in- 
dignation is overpast. Good Father Brace went down be- 
fore the war ; and, if he has heard of it, he is so near the 
throne, that the roar of cannon doesn't trouble him. I do 
want to see you and yours, and to unite with you and thank 
God that he reigns, that he cloeth all things well, and that 
he is leading us to a kingdom that shall never be moved." 

" October 24th. 
" Our ladies here are greatly engaged in knitting for the 
soldiers, and think of making the charity richer by dancing 
to close the exercises, so that the feet need not have the 
hands say, 'Ye are idle.' " 

To Mrs. Lizzie H. Todd, after the Birth of her first Child. 

" December 23d. 
" I am greatly pleased with the name; not for my present 
great admiration of the state of Virginia, but because it is a 
long prefix to a short name. It sounds and reads well. I 
have thought much of you, dear Lizzie, in having this little 
creature to awaken in your heart anxieties that are new, 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 389 

that are great, and increasingly so as long as you live. The 
French proverb is full of truth : 

" ' Tendresse maternelle 
Toujours se renouvelle.' 

" If her life is spared, her education will commence before 
she is six months old, and every day of life after that is a 
day of discipline. I want you to lay the dear little one on 
the altar of baptism, and in the arms of Christ, at an early 
day, and to feel that she is only loaned, to be recalled at the 
wise pleasure of her Maker. I anticipate that, as a mother, you 
will be all that a relation so tender and sacred can demand." 

" October 27th, 1862. 

"As for the war, I've preached over it, and talked over it, 
and prayed over it, till the thing has got too big for me to 
manage, and too big for any man or number of men to con- 
trol ; and now I am fast coming to the place where I can 
leave it all in the hands of God, and let him manage it. I 
look upon it all as a deep river of God's providence, whose 
waters no human being can hasten or retard ; and I look 
upon battles and proclamations as nothing more than little 
chips cast ashore here and there, to show that the river is in 
motion. I have not yet seen a ray of light revealing the de- 
sign of God in permitting all this. It is all dark to me. My 
great joy is, that the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. 

"As to the disease with which you are afflicted (I mean a 
weak and lean ministry), I hardly know what to say. When 
good men remove, or seek a new home for their families, they 
are not always anxious, like Abraham, to journey toward 
Bethel, where he knew there was a good altar. Patience 
and prayer are the best remedies you can use for the pres- 
ent, as it seems to me. I hope, my dear, good friend, you 
are growing in all that is really of any consequence in this 
world — the knowledge of Jesus Christ, admiration for his 
glorious character, love to his person, and communion with 
him through the Holy Spirit. Let me, dear fellow, share in 
your warmest, best moments of prayer. » Do eternal things 
groio upon you, come nearer to you ? Shall we soon meet — 
over the river ?" 

"May 8th. 

" I am delighted to hear you speak so well of L 's 



390 JOHN TODD. 

economy. Tell her it's what I've been studying all my life ; 
and though I have not attained, nor am already perfect 
therein, yet I continue to reach forward, and expect soon to 
attain it. Don't discourage her, as you do me, by insinua- 
ting that she really has not got it in her." 

"December 31st. 

"Were you to see me at about half-past eleven o'clock 
daily, you would see my hair whiter, my face older, and the 
cares and burdens and sorrows of life lying heavy upon me ; 
but you would see me mounted on a wild, noble, four-year- 
old colt which few would dare ride, and taking my exercise 
irrespective of cold or heat. I ride about an hour daily, and 
thus am able to bear my burdens." 

The following letter was written in reply to one from a 
minister at the West who had, when a little boy, been bap- 
tized by Mr. Todd during his first pastorate at Groton. 

To X K. N . 

" May 5th, 1864. 

J 



"I should like to know what kind of a man J. K. N 
is ! to write to me — a man whom he never remembers to 
have seen, and of whom he, probably, by the merest accident 
heard — and to write about his own father and mother and 
old grandfather, and fill the soul with the memories of other 
days long since gone past, till the heart swells, and fills, and 
wells over through the weeping eyes ! Pray, what right has 

this Rev. J. K. 1ST to make one look over long years and 

recall the imperfections of early manhood, and to see the 
forms and faces of the dead pass before the eyes of the mind? 
Among the many letters I have received, I never received 
one like that ■* and, moved by the insinuations therein, I lost 
no time in communicating it to my flock; for I knew they 
were always ready to sympathize with their pastor, and, if 
need be, avenge his wrongs, so far as they judged best. The 
result has been, that they have directed me, in their name, to 

administer the reproof which the said N deserves. This 

I do by inclosing a draft for one hundred and* ten dollars, to 
aid your faithful church people in completing and paying 
for their church edifice. I have only to add, that the Sab- 
bath of our collection was a rainy one, that we had three 
collections on that day, and a heavy one on the Sabbath pre- 
ceding, and that forty dollars of this sum is the gift of our 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 391 

Sabbath -school, and is therefore, like the honey collected 
from the white clover of the spring, peculiarly precious, and 
should be made to go as far as possible. And now, dear sir, 
having administered the reproof which you deserved, let me 
say, that, though I may never meet you or any of your peo- 
ple in this world, my warm affection will travel the thousand 
miles that lie between me and them; and all I have to ask is, 
that I, going on the hill-side of life that lies toward the set- 
ting sun, and my dear people, who seldom refuse any thing 
I ask, may be remembered in your best moments and your 
most fervent prayers." 

To his Brother William. 

" November 28th. 

" It has been a hard year for us. Mrs. Todd was sick, the 
first six months of it, with nervous prostration ; and then 
James was violently seized with rheumatism of the heart, 
which threatens to destroy life ; and then, just after receiv- 
ing your letter, our invalid Mary, who has not walked a 
step for over ten years, and who for the last year and a half 
has not sat up for an hour, suddenly broke her thigh-bone. 
She was lying on the bed ; and it was done in moving the 
limb. Ever since, for over two months, we have had noth- 
ing but watching, and care, and anxieties on our part, and, 
on hers, pains, spasms, and agonies." 

For a time it was hoped that the sufferer would be re- 
stored to at least her previous condition ; but as the year 
drew to a close, the shadows began to deepen on the walls 
of " Mary's room." 

"December 16 th. 

"My poor child doesn't rally, and I am trying every hour 
to say, cheerfully, 'Thy will be done.' You can't think how 
we cling to her." 

"January 5th, 1865. 

" Several times we have thought she w T as nearly through, 
and then she has rallied, and come back to pain and suffer- 
ing. She has clung to life with a tenacity unexampled, and 
with a desire to live, that has given us inexpressible pain ; 
but now she bows to the divine will, and is resigned to die 
whenever God calls. Her life has been a wreck, so far as 
this world is concerned ; yet we can not but hope she is one 
of those who will have come out of great tribulation, and 



392 JOHN TODD. 

washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb. You will, 
perhaps, wonder why we cling to the poor sufferer so ; ah ! 
if you ever have a bright child sick for eighteen years, and 
loving you only for thirty-six years, you will find the heart 
heavy enough if placed where mine is." 

Extracts from a private Note-booh. 

"January 8th. — Poor Mary — thrush begun !" 

"January 13th. — Mary low — living by inhaling chloro- 
form. A day of great distress to us all." 

"January 15th. — Preached in great anguish of spirit. 
Four ounces of chloroform daily !" 

"January 22d. — A day of tears to us all." 

"January 28th. — Sufferings very great. Immense quan- 
tities of chloroform." 

"January 30th. — Poor Mary — slept." 

To Jjticy. 

" January 30th. 

"Our dear Mary is now at rest. We have followed her 
through all her untold sufferings, hanging over her day and 
night, till half-past twelve o'clock to-day, when she was re- 
leased. Such sufferings you never dreamed of. And what 
a vacancy in our household !" 

The vacancy was felt elsewmere than in the household. 
The invalid had for many years drawn to herself the sympa- 
thy and love of a wide circle of friends, and indeed of the 
whole people ; and they had testified their interest by great 
and unnumbered kindnesses to her, which are gratefully re- 
membered in the family. 

The father never fully recovered from this blow. The 
brilliant mind and long sufferings of his oldest child had 
taken hold of his very heart-strings. Months after her death 
he wrote : " In the removal of our dear Mary, the very cen- 
tre of the house was darkened, and the sunlight seems shut 
out forever." For years he used to dream of her almost 
every night, and of^en woke in tears. In his own last sick- 
ness, he remarked that the person above all others whom he 
longed to meet in the eternal world was — Mary. 

"They have printed one hundred thousand of 'In Memo- 
riam,' and are now talking of making it into a tract — ' Pol- 
ished Diamonds.' Perhaps her mission is not yet ended." 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 393 

"My poor suffering one is at rest. We have buried her. 
I was never aware that we did much or little for her while 
she was with us; but I can not now recall one thing more 
that w r e could have done for her. I sit alone, and think. 
She seems to be going farther and farther from me, and 
faster than I can follow. Shall I ever overtake her? When 
I come to the border-land, will she be far off? 

" I sometimes walk in the garden of Hope ; and it seems 
as if I could see her form now and then gliding among the 
trees, and her face turned toward me, and saying, 'Why, 
father, I'm your own Mary still !' " 

26 



394 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER XXVIIL 

life at pittsfield — continued. 

The fatted Calf— Message to a Prayer-meeting. — Sick. — At Saratoga. — Sec- 
ond Meeting of the American Board. — " Vanity Fair." — An honorable 
Character. — A John Gilpin Time. — Chronicles. — Billy in the Pulpit. — 
Ring-tailed Monkeys. — The Power of Prayer. — Raffling. — A great Matter. 
— Thanks. — Trip to California. — The last Rail.— A holy Fossil. — The Mor- 
mon Temple. — Weak Consciences. — Sermon before the American Board. 
— Times of Paul. — New Lecture-room. — Swaying Bedclothes. — How to 
deal with Temptation. — A Pocket-pistol. — Rutland Centenuial. — The Res- 
ignation. 

To B. B. C . 

"February 5th, 1866. 

"We were greatly disappointed, and almost grieved, that 
you did not come to us last summer. We were told by 

Doctor M that you so calculated, and so we put on the 

best ' bib and tucker,' and killed the fatted calf, and dressed 
up the angel of welcome and placed him at the front door, 
and directed him to hold it wide open and bring you all in ; 
and wife got up her best cap, and I wrote — oh, a most mag- 
nificent sermon, or, at least, I selected a beautiful text, and 
we set every wire and spring in order, intending to have a 
glorious visit, and to recall old times, and read over the last 
chapters in the history of our lives, and to turn the tele- 
scope toward the future, and talk over our meetings and feel- 
ings a thousand years hence. So we calculated, and so we 
were disappointed. 

"Our children are so gone that, for the present, wife and I 
are alone. We are not so young as we once were, but we 
try to be as comely in each other's eyes;, and if, perchance, 
we see that the hair grows whiter and the wrinkles more 
abundant, we are careful not to notice it, and dream that 
when warm weather comes >we shall be as young and as 
fresh as ever. For variety, I have a broken arm" [in conse- 
quence of a fall on an icy sidewalk], " which I carry round 
done up in boards, heavy and useless, unless its continual 
achings are good to remind me what a beautiful thing pa- 
tience is. 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 395 

" But I do want to see you, and to talk over many, many 
things ; to compare notes, and to take the latitude and lon- 
gitude of life's voyage. I want your advice and good judg- 
ment ; but, ah me ! how many things I want which I can't 
have ! One thing I hope, dear fellow — that we shall never 
spend twenty-four years separated agaiu — never !" 

"March 19th. 

" I am working, aching, sighing, and wearying, all in the 
superlative degree. The Lord won't do as I want him to, 
and as I exhort him to do ; but he will move in his own 
way, and lets the wise and prudent remain in darkness, 
while he reveals himself to babes. 

" If I only had two well arms, and teeth that wouldn't ache, 
and legs that wouldn't tire, and feet that wouldn't shuffle, 
and eyes that could see, and a few other like wants, I should 
be quite young." 

"April 22d. 

"I have been down — much on the bed, but managed to 
preach once — the most solemn audience I ever saw in that 

church. I feel very much as does, that the Lord can't 

do without me ; else I should drop all and rest at once. 
Our meetings were never so interesting and important. To 
us the whole subject now is religion. I am hoping for a 
great work of grace. I number one hundred and five ^ho 
have been to talk with me." 

The following was read at the morning prayer- meeting, 
May 4th: "Since God has brought us into the situation that 
we must now cliiefly depend on prayer and individual efforts 
for the salvation of men, I beg leave to say to my dear 
brethren and sisters, that in our united prayers we should 
be careful and earnest not to listen to the prayers as we 
would to preaching or music, but earnestly and intently 
make every petition our own, and every prayer the full in- 
dividual prayer of every heart. As to personal efforts, the 
Spirit has now so far prepared the way, by softening the 
heart, that you may safely ask every one to come to these 
meetings, and even to Christ, without offense, and with hope 
of leading to Christ. I can not but believe that there are at 
this time many Nathanaels praying under the fig-tree, who 
would be glad to be led to Jesus. My spirit and my heart are 
with you in every meeting, though I am confined to my bed." 



396 JOHN TODD. 

To his Brother. 

" Saratoga Springs, May 29th. 

"Between seventy and eighty have united with my 
church since January came in. But I have had to work 
with a broken, shattered arm, which even now can not be 
used ; and then I have been sick, very sick, so much so that 
the doctors had consultations together, half a dozen at a 
time. I am better, but have not preached for many weeks. 
I am here on a furlough, with Mrs. Todd to take care of me. 
I don't expect to be able to preach again for at least two 
months, and I sometimes feel that my work is about done. 
All that I can claim, in looking back, is, that I have worked 
hard." 

In the fall of this year the American Board again held 
their annual meeting in Pittsfield. Of course, Doctor Todd 
was again the chairman of the committee of arrangements, 
and performed an incredible amount of labor in preparing 
for the entertainment of four thousand guests. His efforts 
were abundantly successful, and the second meeting at Pitts- 
field was, like the first, long remembered with pleasure by 
those who attended it. 

"February 6th, 1867. 

" I have been reading Thackeray's 'Vanity Fair,' or, as it 
might be called, a book describing the selfishness of the hu- 
man heart. Its effects are not at all pleasant, albeit it has 
been praised so much. It always hurts me to keep bad 
company, whether in my house or on the pages of a book." 

To J. K. N . 

"February 19th. 
" I have been sorry to hear of the continued feebleness of 
Mrs. Celeste, and am sorry not to be able to do something 
for her worth mentioning. I have spoken to some of your 
and my friends, and the result is, that a small box goes to- 
day for you, containing remembrances ; and if I have not put 
in all that I would, you can guess why. Now, you know 
the hardest thing in the world is to feel grateful, and the 
next hardest is to express gratitude, and I will cheerfully re- 
lieve you of all such oppression, so far as I personally am. 
concerned. By-the-bye, I have them come here for all sorts 

of charity, saying that Mr. N" told them how rich and 

how liberal the Pittsfield people are. ~Now please stop that, 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 397 

or else we shall have too much of the superior blessing of 
giving. 

" I am about again, writing poor sermons and attending to 
pastoral duties, and getting ready for the * great occasion,' 
the only John Gilpin time wife and I have ever tried to get 
up. I send your invitation by this mail, and most truly wish 
you could both be here and show a specimen of my baptisms. 

"As to your leaving, it is a very grave question. You 
will bear in mind that sometimes a church and a community, 
which have depended on the breath of one man, may run 
down very quickly if that man leaves. You must not lose 
the water which your dam has gathered. Bear in mind, 
also, that while, if you have a* thousand dollars in money, 
you can transfer it, and it will be worth as much in one place 
as another, it is not so with character. That can't be trans- 
planted. You must begin anew, and work it out and up 
again. It takes a long time to become, in a new field, what 
you were in the old. I am confident that the most useful 
men in New England have been those who staid in one 
place. The question of leaving the West is a very impor- 
tant one. I consider a home missionary a very honorable 
character. Of one thing you may be sure, and that is, if it 
be the will of God that you go to another field, he will open 
the door and make it plain to you. Don't put your hand on 
the latch to open the door yourself. Let Providence open 
it, if he chooses. Work on hard, and if you are not in the 
right niche, you will be put into it without your efforts. 

"Let us live in your prayers that we may be right, feel 
right, and do right in age and in the twilight of eternity, 
and especially that it may be the twilight of eternal day." 

The "John Gilpin time" referred to in the foregoing was 
the fortieth anniversary of the marriage of Doctor and Mrs. 
Todd, which was celebrated by the family and the people 
with considerable demonstration. It was also the tenth an- 
niversary of the marriage of the oldest living daughter, and 
was selected by the youngest daughter as the time for her 
own marriage to a young Pittsfield physician. 

"At half- past seven o'clock (March 11th) the wedding 
party entered the church, while the organ sent out in melo- 
dious strains, ' Mendelssohn's Wedding-march.' The parents, 
brothers, and sisters of the bridal pair were in advance, fol- 



398 JOHN TODD. 

lowed by the groomsmen, the brides -maids, and last, and 
most admired of all, the bride and groom. Doctor Todd's 
five grandchildren were also in the procession, and a lovelier 
sight is seldom seen. The party advanced to the pulpit, and 
remained standing while Rev. Doctor Brinsmade, of Newark, 
New Jersey, the predecessor of Doctor Todd as pastor of the 
First Church in this town, and his classmate in Yale College, 
offered the anniversary prayer, when the marriage ceremony 
was performed by Doctor Todd, under the deep and perfect 
silence of the great cloud of witnesses. At the close of the 
ceremonies in the church, a reception was held at the par- 
sonage. To the eight hundred invitations issued, at least 
five hundred responded in person. The presents to Doctor 
and Mrs. Todd and the bridal pair were numerous and ele- 
gant. Quite one-half of them came from friends out of town. 
A peck-basketful of congratulatory letters was also received 
from friends who were unable to attend the triple wedding. 
One of these is a fair sample of the rest : 

"'In common with a great multitude of all ages, in both 
hemispheres, we greet you as, on your way up to the top 
of Pisgah, you come out to view, and stand together on 
one of its lower peaks. We congratulate you that God 
has given you strength for the journey thus far, and that he 
now gives you so wide a horizon and so fair a prospect on 
every side. We rejoice in what you and we now see, that 
even while clambering up rough defiles and dark ravines, 
the great arch above and around you was silently spreading, 
and the air growing more and more pure. Our heavenly 
Father, who tenderly spares his own sons that serve him, 
grant strength and sunshine through the remainder of the 
ascent, giving you at length, although we hope late, from the 
summit to see, with undimmed eyes, the Canaan you have 
both so long loved, to which you have pointed so many, and 
whither so many follow.' " [From a newspaper of the day.] 

" Chronicles of the Todd Family. 
"And it came to pass, a little after the summer solstice 
was passed, that the old priest of the hill country with Mary 
his wife, received by the swift runner (swifter than Ahimaaz 
and Cushi, the ancient runners in Israel), a loving message 
from their kinsman Robert. Now Robert dwelt in the 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 399 

pleasant valley, on the banks of the long river, and near the 
ancient deer-crossing where the caribou was wont to pass; 
hence it was called Hart-ford. And then did Robert say- 
pleasant words, written on soft paper of great, price, thereby 
showing a heart greater than the heart of the behemoth, and 
a spirit sweet as the dew of Hermon, and rich in fruits as the 
valley of Esdraelon. And so it was that when they read 
the letter, they did say one to another : 

" ' Mary, thou seest that my kindred have the spirit of love 
and goodness as well as thine.' 

"'Yea, John, how wonderfully does the good Lord pour 
the streams of his mercy in upon us, at times and in ways 
we looked not for. I hope we shall not have all our good 
things in this life.' 

"'And what shall we do with these new treasures? 
There's the carryall not paid for, and there's the — ' 

" ' Hush, John, we shall pay for the carriage ; let us carry 
this to the exchanger's and get us a bond, and keep the 
same ; so that if the time comes when we are old and have 
no home, it will be so much toward getting the vine and 
the fig-tree, under whose shadow we can sit and see the sun 
of life go down, without anxiety — better off than the good 
One, who had not where to lay his head.' 

" ' Daughter of prudence, thou hast well spoken, and it 
shall be according to thy word. Thy counsels are to me 
ever as the wisdom of Ahithophel before he counseled to 
do evil. And now that we have scrip in our purse, we may 
not hold our heads high, but we will write to our kinsman 
Robert, and certify to him that he hath poured oil on our 
face, and we will thank the good Lord that he hath made 
Robert a fruitful bough, even a fruitful bough by a well, 
whose branches run over the wall, and drop fruit into the 
basket of his neighbor. And, moreover, concerning Robert 
nnd his wife we will ever say, " Blessed of the Lord be his 
land, for the precious things of heaven, for the dew, and for 
the deep that coucheth beneath, and for the precious fruits 
brought forth by the sun, and for the precious things put 
forth by the moon, and for the chief things of the ancient 
mountains, and for the precious things of the lasting hills, 
and for the precious things of the earth and fullness thereof, 
and for the good-will of him that dwelt in the bush."' 



400 JOHN TODD. 

(" In answer to a note from my cousin, R. B- 
ing two drafts for Mrs. Todd and myself.") 

u December 30th. 

"Alas ! when I got home I found my beautiful, my gentle, 
my knowing Silly was dead ! I never loved a horse before. 
He never got into the pulpit till yesterday, but yesterday 
I could not keep him out. Whether the Lord has another 
horse created for me is more than I know, and I shall not 
inquire at present ; but I am a deep and sincere mourner." 

" January 11th, 1868. 

"As to the women's speaking, I would pull out the plug 
and let the waters out. They will swell, and burst, perhaps. 
They all know that you do it under protest, and that you 
don't expect to be edified. It won't last long, and it will 
soon empty the pond. I believe it unscriptural, and against 
Scripture ; yet there are some things the Gospel bears with 
and winks at, till better light comes. I would make no 
proclamation of a change in the programme, but silently let 
the dear sisters ventilate. 

" I'm crawling into my shell, drying up, making my study 
into a l Growlery,' and coming to imbecility as fast as pos- 
sible. Still, I try not to groan aloud, or make up faces at 
people, but take it as it comes. Every thing is so dear, that 
I am almost afraid to ask for my daily bread." 

"May 13th. 

" I deeply sympathize with you in the low state of the 
purse, and can truly say I have never passed through a quar- 
ter without having agonies of the same kind, if not deeper." 

In July he was invited to speak before the "Litchfield 
County Foreign Missionary Society," in Connecticut. The 
following was his reply : 

"July 27th. 

"My dear Sir, — I can't conceive of an audience coming 
together at ten o^ clock a.m. on Wednesday ! to see or hear 
any thing short of a hand-organ and a ring-tailed monkey ! 
But my wife thinks if I decline any call, folks will think I'm 
growing old ! So I'll try to meet your wishes." 

" January 4th, 1869. 

"I have more faith in the Miiller theory than I once had. 
I certainly have had in my own experience many striking 
illustrations and confirmations of it." 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 401 

" January 19th. 
"I-believe more and more in Providence, and in the power 
of prayer to modify Providence. Light comes from above; 
we must look up for light and direction. In the next place, 
when we don't know what to do, we must stand still and do 
nothing till we do know. This is a hard and trying duty; 
for, when in trouble, we want to be relieved as soon as pos- 
sible. The concordance will surprise you by the encourage- 
ments to ' wait ' quietly and patiently when we are at a loss 
what to do. It is also my experience, that if we can refer 
the questions to the Master, and confidingly s wait ' for him, 
his providence will make it all plain." 

To John. 

" March 4th. 
"I have never worked so hard as this winter, and with 
results so unsatisfactory that my people are as cross as sin. 
They feel that I ought to have converted the whole town. 
There have been, perhaps, sixty conversions in my congre- 
gation. I wish I could see you. I feel the need of some- 
body to lean upon. That somebody must be one's own 
child, or nobody." 

To Bev. Mr. . 

" March 5th. 
" In reply to your note, I would say that I know of no 
orthodox Congregational Church in Massachusetts who ad- 
mit or permit raffling, and therefore it can not be common 
among our churches. I deem it wrong in principle, wrong 
in execution, and wrong in results. It is gambling — nothing 
more, and nothing less. A French fiddler was once con- 
verted, and he wanted to honor Christ, and so he got a 
Christ painted with a fiddle under his chin ! And so, one 
wants a Christ who will fiddle; another, a Christ who will 
dance; another, a Christ who will go to the billiard-table; 
another, a Christ who will handle a pack of cards ! Poor 
sinners like you and me want a Christ to save us from our 
sins. Oh, when will the Church redeemed by his blood learn 
that she is a consecrated, converted, holy thing; not to be 
the instrument of bringing Christ down to the world, but of 
bringing the world up to him ; that selling him for money 
is a poor way to obtain his blessing? If we can't raise 
money for good objects except by pious gambling, Christ 



402 JOHN TODD. 

can do without our money. I speak decidedly, because it 
is one step among many of our day toward overwhelming 
the Church of God with the spirit of the world. I may 
not have met your question, but my words cost you little. 
Stand near and firmly by the cross. If the children of Wis- 
dom are but few, they will justify her and all other con- 
sciences will do the same." 

To John. 

"March llth. 
" You have, I doubt not,* many warm friends ; but among 
them all there is no one who will or can feel with and for 
you like a father; and though I can hope to aid you very 
little by advice, yet my warm sympathy and humble prayers 
shall be yours. Sympathy, like Falstaff's 'instinct,' is a 
great matter." 

"April 5th. 
"There have been some rumors about my people's send- 
ing me for a month across the continent to California, bui 
I don't know as it will amount to any thing." 

To Mr. and Mrs. T . 

"April 14th. 
"When Paul was in prison at Rome, he wrote to his 
friends at Philippi that he would send the faithful Timothy 
to them as soon as ' I shall see how it will go with me ;' i. e., 
I suppose, whether he should lose his head or not. I am so 
far in the apostolical succession, that I have to ' wait ' to see 
how things will go with me ; and, waiting to know the prob- 
abilities of my California journey, and being yet in the dark, 
I may delay no longer to write, lest you think me what the 
Scotch call ' a vera wratch ' of ingratitude. When my kind 
boy, Frank, slipped your united card, with the accompani- 
ment, into my hand, at Mr. B 's, I had no idea what he 

was 'up to,' and gave him the passing civilities of the hour. 
I had no idea that he was placing a weight (not burden) of 
obligation on me which I must carry through life, and, as I 
hope, remember forever. Now, you loving ones, don't you 
know the luxury of having a pleasant secret which you com- 
municate together, and gloat over together ? Even so I sur- 
prised my wife, on my return, by revealing the godsend; 
and we sat down and enjoyed it, as two children would to- 
gether suck a huge sugar-plum — she entering into my joy, 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 403 

and I crowing that we still have such kind friends. And 
what do you think the good creature said ? Why, ' that her 
faith was strengthened that when I could preach no longer, 
if my people, on my leaving the parsonage to my successor, 
and my salary ceasing, did not take care of us, God would 
raise us up friends as we needed.' And this was not said, 
according to the Frenchman's definition of gratitude, ' a 
keen sense of favors to come,' but in simple, child-like faith. 
Now, if I go to California, I shall most assuredly need, use, 
and consume your kindness ; and if I do not go, I shall put 
it into a little building-lot which I have purchased on credit, 
in the possibility that I may hereafter make a short home 
on Jubilee Hill, before going to dwell on the higher hill, 
that of Zion. In either case, I am more grateful to you 
than I can remember words to express ; and I pray God to 
put every cent of it down to your credit and that of your 
children. And now, good friends, among other things for 
which you thank God to-night, don't forget to thank him 
for giving to you each a kind heart, a generous disposition, 
and a hand that opens easily. God bless you and reward 
you a hundred-fold, and make me all the better for his and 

your remembrance of me. My best love to dear Mrs. R ; 

may every blessing wait on her ! and to the lovely children ; 
may they one day become so many angels !" 

The journey to California was undertaken early in May, 
in the company of quite a party from Pittsfield, the gifts of 
generous friends having made it possible. It so happened 
that the party arrived at the junction of the Central Pacific 
and Union Pacific railroads just in time to witness and take 
part in the laying of the last rail in the great line from the 
Atlantic to the Pacific, and to enter California on the first 
train that went through from the East. The ceremonies of 
laying the last rail took place at Promontory Point. 

"The day was clear and beautiful; and the little gather- 
ing of less than a thousand people representing all classes of 
our people, from the humblest citizen to the highest civil 
and military authorities, met to enact the last scene in a 
mighty drama of peace in a little grassy plain surrounded 
by green-clad hills, with the snowy summit of the "Wasatch 
Mountains looking down on the placid blue waters of the 
inland sea of America in the distance, formed a scene which 



404 JOHN TODD. 

can not be fitly described, but can never be forgotten by the 
beholder. 

" It was now announced that the last blow was to be struck. 
Every head was uncovered in reverential silence, and Rev. 
Doctor Todd offered the following invocation, which was 
telegraphed to all the principal cities in the Union as fast as 
it was uttered : 

" ' Our heavenly Father, and our God, God of the creation, 
of the waters, and of the earth, in whom we live, and move, 
and have our being, we acknowledge thee to be the God of 
the creation of the human mind, with its power and its suc- 
cesses. Now, on this beautiful day, in the presence of these 
lonely hills and golden summits, we render thanks that thou 
hast by this means brought together the East and the West, 
and bound them together by this strong band of union. We 
implore thee that thou wilt bless this work of our hands 
which we have now completed, this monument of our labor; 
and that thy blessing may rest upon it, so long as the hills 
remain among which the ends have been bound together. 
We thank thee for the blessings thou hast conferred on us 
and other nations; bless our future, and those whom thou 
hast appointed to conduct us in it. We again acknowledge 
thy power, and beseech thee to bless the waters that wash 
the shores of our land, the Atlantic of thy strength and the 
Pacific of thy love. And to thee and to thy Son, Jesus 
Christ, shall all honor and glory be ascribed, world without 
end. Amen."' [From a newspaper of the day.] 

In California Doctor Todd found many old friends, and 
was cordially welcomed everywhere. 

To Mrs. Todd. 

May 23d. 

" I can not begin to tell you how kind every body is to 
me, receiving me as a kind of holy fossil, to be handled with 
care. I am getting the hang of things here, and they hang 

very queerly I am honored far above all my deserts, 

as well as my expectations. I have become ' very remarka- 
ble,' ' very gifted,' ' of long experience,' ' of national reputa- 
tion,' ' one of the most eminent,' etc., etc. What would they 
say, if they only knew you, the creator of all these wonders !" 

One large church went so far as to offer him a call with a 
great salary; but he was wise enough to decline it. With 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 405 

all his age and infirmities, he was not to be deterred from 
the laborious journey to the Yosemite Valley, and to the 
great trees ; nor could he, on his way home, pass without 
visiting the Mormon city, where he was invited to preach in 
the great temple. 

On his return home he announced his intention to deliver 
a short course of lectures on what he had seen, in acknowl- 
edgment of the kindness of his friends in sending him. The 
lectures were delivered on successive Sunday evenings to 
immense crowds; but some tender souls being scandalized 
by such a profanation of the Sabbath, he preferred to sus- 
pend the course rather than offend weaker consciences. The 
rest of the course was delivered in a hall on week-day even- 
ings, for the benefit of the Young Men's Association. There 
being an admission fee, the attendance was, of course, much 
reduced. 

"August 13th. 

"My closing lecture went off far beyond my expectations; 
the people were so excited that they fairly cried. It was 
the largest and best audience I have had since the lectures 
ceased to be free. At the close, I thanked the friends here 
and in California for their kindness, and the community for 
their attendance, and then said, that I was glad I could do 
something for the young men ; that I should receive no com- 
pensation at their hands ; and then said that I wanted to 
give them one word of advice : if ever they tried to do good, 
with their consciences satisfied that their motives were good, 
and if they should be abused while doing it, not to mind it! 
What shouting and clapping of hands ! It carried the audi- 
ence off their feet. If they are mad, they can't help them- 
selves. Now I have delivered the seven lectures, with a 
continually deepening impression : the success is a fixed fact, 
and I am as tickled as a boy with a new top." 

At the meeting of the American Board at Pittsburg, this 
fall, Doctor Todd was the preacher, appointed two years 
previously. His sermon was on "Missions created and sus- 
tained by Prophecy," and was a characteristic and much- 
admired discourse. „ 

"September 26th. 
"I preached my American Board sermon this morning to 
my own people, having rewritten every word of it since you 



406 JOHN TODD. 

saw it. I think it took well, and it gives me confidence in 
the thing. Thank God, our sermons don't seem to others as 
they do to us." 

" October 22d. 
" You know that I have entered upon my seventieth year, 
and the last of my active ministry. It is a dreary, sad spot 
to reach, but I do hope I shall have grace to behave right. 
The feeling that you are doing this and that for the last 
time is a strange one. The most that I can hope to do is, 
to behave appropriately. I believe that after Thanksgiving 
I shall commence a course of lectures to my young people 
on the life and times of St. Paul. Of course, Conybeare must 
be the foundation. How does it strike you? I need a good 
theological library. I want to carry my ministry out full to 
the end, and stop rather than be stopped." 

To J. K. N . 

"November 15th. 

"I thank you for your kind thoughts and plans, and letter 
of wishes for my welfare. It is possible that a year hence 
I may have courage to go to work to build something, not 
knowing whether it will come out a scow or a barn, a maga- 
zine or something else. But it now seems as if I should use 
up all my courage in bowing my spirit to my fortunes, and 
learning to behave well when stripped of the priest's gar- 
ments, as Aaron was, and learning and feeling that the world 
can get along without me, and that I am not needed. But 
I intend to be cheerful and bright, and neither mourn nor 
whine. I have no plans whatever." 

"November 29th. 

" Our new chapel is beautiful ; seats six hundred, and by 
opening doors will seat two hundred more : cost over twen- 
ty-one thousand dollars. 

" We have a literary club here, limited to twenty-five, all 
graduates but one or two. We meet every Monday night ; 
hence its name — The Monday Night Club. It meets at the 
members' houses in turn, with an oyster and coffee entertain- 
ment at half-past nine. It goes well — that is, the eating does." 

To John. 

" November 30th. 

" Now, my dear John, we must take these disappointments 
and mortifications, and resolve them into a discipline which 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 407 

God weaves around us, not always making us wiser and 
better, but designed to do so. We must all go through these 
bruisings, if we ever do any thing ; and the difference be- 
tween a fool and a wise man is, that the one is brayed in the 
mortar to no good results, and the other is made better by 
the pounding. Churches, and congregations, and things, and, 
indeed, the age we live in, sway this way and that, like our 
bedclothes at night, nobody knows how or why ; but they 
go, and leave us half naked and quite cold. I am sure I 
sympathize with you enough ; and if I don't seem to see 
your troubles looking as large as they do to you, it is be- 
cause I have learned that nothing is as great as I once 
thought — always excepting the Bible and its contents. 

To J. K. N . 

"March 31st, 1870. 

"If I didn't suppose you a man brimful of truth, I should 
doubt about my owing you a letter. However, I find it the 
easiest way to let people think they are right; as the old 
Scotch lady said, ' I ken the easiest way to deal with temp- 
tation is just to yield to it.' 

"As to ' copyright,' we who use the quill, and tap the 
brain for the world, are wholly in the hands of publishers, 
and they are men : ' Beware of men ;' for, as my unmarried 
Irish girl says, ' Sure enough, these men are as dape as the 
say.' 

" I am giving a course of lectures on the life of Paul, with 
maps, views of cities, etc., which I get from London. 

"I have loaded my pistol, and it's in my pocket; and if it 
doesn't hurt my people, it will kill me dead. I have written 
my resignation, and shall present it, if I live, some time in 
the course of the summer. The poor worm, as he spins his 
cocoon, doesn't know that it is to be his shroud and grave ; 
nor does he know of the resurrection, when he will come out 
in new life, with wino-s ! But I'm not intending to whine or 
whimper more than I can help ; and, as my powers decay, I 
want to take joyfully the spoiling of my goods. I love to 
hear from you, and hope for often letters. They cost but 
three cents each." 

To B. B. C . 

"April 12th. 
"I'm pleased that you remember your old friend and write 



408 JOHN TODD. 

to him, and wonder why he doesn't write to you. I have 
set the time, and times, when I would ; but I've so much 
to do, and withal have not as much courage as Daniel had 
when they tumbled him in among the lions. 

"If to forget and think meanly of one's work is a mark of 
humility, I'm sure I must be quite humble ; for I can not see 
a single spot in my past history or deeds, in the review, 
which is not marked by sin or folly, or both. 

"At t-he close of this year, before I get old and foolish, and 
not able to tell when my faculties decay, I am going to lay 
down my burdens and retire from my responsibilities. Then, 
after a life-work of nearly fifty years, I shall be without a 
house or a home, and as poor as need be ; but I trust to the 
kindness of the Master whom I have tried to serve. What, 
if any thing, my people will do toward making the old worn- 
out minister comfortable, I don't know. I try to cast all 
my cares on Him who careth for us. My own experience is, 
that when I have needed, I have found the ass tied, or had 
the fish bring money in his mouth. As to the great future, 
why, if I had in any degree, the very smallest, to depend on 
my own goodness or works, I should despair. The hardest 
thing I have to attempt is, to realize that I can live and be 
conscious after I am dead." 

"August 8th. 

"Xext month is the time I have fixed upon to read my 
resignation. As the time draws near, of course, it brings 
sadness. They all say that I never preached better, or with 
more profit to them, but I have had no wavering in my own 
mind, or judgment, or determination." 

"August 28th. 

" My congregation was never so large, and, externally, so 
prospered, as at the present time ; and it gives me great 
comfort to think that I have not been left to see decay 
written upon any thing pertaining to the concern." 

To B. B. C . 

"September 30th. 
"Rutland, Vermont, is my native town. 
"Rutland is just one hundred years old. 
" Rutland was my father's home. 
"Rutland celebrates, next week, her centennial. 
"Rutland wants me to preach the centennial sermon. 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 409 

"Rutland says that as I was not present at her starting, 
and as I may not be there at the next centennial, I must 
come; and so, 

"Rutland will keep me from the meeting of the Board, 
and also from your most delightful hospitality. 

" What a visit we did have at your house ! It is even now 
like the odor of one of Lubin's phials, almost as rich as when 
the phial was full of essence. 

"You will see by the inclosed paper that I have thrown 
myself upon my friends and a faithful Providence. It was 
a sad and melancholy duty, but God helped me to go man- 
fully through it." 

" To the First Church and Society, Pittsfield : 

"Dear Brethren and Friends, — The aggregate expe- 
rience of men seems to indicate that the mental and bodily 
powers may usually be relied upon to sustain us under the 
duties and responsibilities of life up to about the age of 
three-score and ten years. In certain cases they hold out 
longer, and now and then a man retains a good measure of 
vigor till seventy-five, and even longer; but such cases are 
exceptional, and should not be presumed upon. Although 
the winds of autumn have for some time solemnly murmured 
around your pastor, yet he finds it difficult to realize that he 
is so near the goal at which wisdom would admonish that 
the work of his life is nearly done, and its heavy responsibili- 
ties must be laid down. Should I live to the close of this 
year, I shall have come to that age, after reaching which 
heavy labor is usually a burden to the minister, and most 
likely unsatisfactory to his people. If he labors much be- 
yond that period, he is in danger of having his powers decay 
without being conscious of it,, and unwittingly trespassing 
on the kind forbearance of his flock. 

" I hardly need say here that, while I have given you the 
best of my strength and life for nearly a generation, it is a 
matter of unspeakable gratitude that there has never been 
an unkind feeling on my part toward my people, nor an 
unkind act on yours toward me. Few men have ever had 
more to be grateful for in this respect than myself. I have 
given myself to you and to the ministry, without seeking 
this world. When I came to you, now nearly thirty years 

27 



410 JOHN TODD. 

ago, I put myself unhesitatingly in your hands, and you 
have never abused this confidence. And no thanks, how- 
ever warmly expressed, can exceed what I feel toward my 
flock. And it is no more than justice to my people to 
say that the present movement is wholly from myself. I 
have not heard a whisper from my people that leads me to 
make it." 

The writer then proceeds to indicate his wish to be re- 
lieved of pastoral duty and responsibility, to be permitted 
to retain nominally the position of pastor, to spend the re- 
mainder of his days with his people, and at last by their 
hands to be gently laid in the grave. He refers also to the 
necessary trials of an aged minister, and invokes the kind 
consideration of his friends. He then speaks of his circum- 
stances, his inability to do more than support and educate 
his large family, and meet the extraordinary expenses of 
years of sickness, alludes to his repeated refusals to enter- 
tain invitations to leave them for more lucrative positions, 
and throws himself upon his people's sense of what is fitting. 
"And as my feelings toward my people are like those of a 
father toward his children, may I not confidently hope that 
the children will never feel that the old man, worn out in 
their service, is a burden I ask your charity and for- 
giveness for all my many imperfections; and, again thank- 
ing you for all your forbearance and numberless kindnesses, 
I close this communication by solemnly invoking the richest 
of heaven's, blessings on you and your children, and asking 
your fervent prayers in my behalf. 

"Your affectionate pastor, Jno. Todd." 



LIFE AT PITTSF1ELD. 411 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

life at pittsfield — continued. 

The old Ship.— These Wives.— Fern Pastures.— Breaking of Heart.— The 
sick Child. — A sad Baptism. — Vale. — The Rainbow. — Spirits in Prison. — 
Frozen together. — The Decrees. — An active old Man. — Alarming Attack. 
— Duties relinquished. — Kindness of Parish. — To a bereaved Brother. — 
To Haxum Magnum. — The deceased young Minister. — To his Successor. — 
A mere Babe.— Turning into a Shadow.— Trip to Philadelphia.— Green 
Remembrance. — The last Communion.— The last Baptism. — To the Presi- 
dent of a University. — A Letter of Consolation.— The last Sermon. 

To J. K. JST- . 

" December 12th, 1870. 
"The old ship was coming into the harbor, with masts 
and spars battered and broken, the sails rent, and hull worn 
and covered with barnacles, and hoping to cast anchor and 
rest ; but, before she could do it, the steam-tug grappled her 
and towed her out, to be tossed on the sea and again beaten 
by storms. In other words, I sent my resignation of active 
duties to my people, proposing to stop work with this year ; 
and they, when I was vacationing, met, and coolly and unan- 
imously accepted my proposition — to take effect January, 
18*73 ! They made no explanation, nor any promises for the 
future ; only that the old horse seemed to have too much 
work in him to be turned out to browse just yet ! So here 
I am. I replied to them that I would attempt to meet their 
wishes, on condition that, if my bodily powers gave out (of 
which I must judge), or if my mental powers failed (of 
which they must judge), I would stop at any time. They 
made no promises or allusions to any support or kindness 
when they have used me up. I should have been pleased to 
have some allusion to that point ; but perhaps it is better to 

walk by faith, especially for me I am always glad when 

I receive a letter from you and that Celeste-ial being who 
is your good angel. Oh these wives ! what should we do 
or be without them? When you become old, and go down 
the hill together, and together look toward the sunset, you 
will understand this better than now We, my good 



412 JOHN TODD. 

boy, plan to do so and so; but the hand that holds and 
guides us doesn't let us do so and so — we must do his will ; 
and the more we make our will like his, and ourselves like 
him, the better. But it seems almost like blasphemy for 
such a poor creature as I am to talk about being like God — 
the mote like the planet Jupiter ! But I do sometimes long 

to be like Christ Oh, how did David, with so little 

knowledge of his Son, ever ' pant after God,' as he surely 
did ? He must have been taught by the Holy Spirit, whom 
he knew not by name. I am preaching and laboring for a 
revival, not because I can make one, but because God seems 
to lead my heart that way. When I want it for his sake, 
and not mine, won't he send it ? You must understand 
that my house and my heart are full of mercies ; and I can 
hardly make out a want, before God sends to meet it. Am 

I having my portion all here ? God bless you, dear N , 

and make you happy in your work, and blessed in success. 
But if he tells us to rake in the fern pastures, and our hearts 
are right, we shall be and feel blessed. Don't forget or 
neglect, when you bring your wants to the throne of God, 
to bring me also. You hit it exactly; '/am thy exceeding 
great reward' — nothing short of this; and I don't suppose 
that Abraham understands it as well to-day as he will four 
thousand years hence. Ever yours, truly and lovingly." 

Although the foregoing letter, like others written at about 
the same time, expresses disappointment in the action of 
the parish, and though the writer was unquestionably disap- 
pointed in the absence of encouragement from his people 
that he would not be allowed to want in his declining years, 
yet it was very evident that the postponement of his retire- 
ment was an unspeakable relief and joy to him. So thor- 
oughly was his work entwined, not only with all his habits 
in life, but also all his tenderest affections, that, while his 
reason and judgment counseled him to retire, and his will 
sustained him in the resolution, yet the very thought of it 
was heart-breaking to him. There is little doubt that the 
action of his people in postponing his retirement for two 
years prolonged his life by so much ; and that when he sunk 
at last, it was more from a silent breaking of heart under 
the surrender of his work and flock, than from any other 
cause whatever. 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 413 

The spring of 1871 brought another great affliction. Aft- 
er several years spent in acquiring familiarity with busi- 
ness, the youngest son, James, had opened a store in Pitts- 
field, with a small capital furnished by his father and friends, 
and by dint of great exertion and self-denial was beginning 
to find some success. Two years previous to this, he had 
married and established himself in a little home of his own. 
But, near the close of 1870, he was suddenly attacked by a 
peculiar disease of the heart, originally induced by rheuma- 
tism. For many weeks he lay very near the grave, suffer- 
ing indescribable agonies ; and during all this time con- 
stantly visited, nursed, and supported by his anxious par- 
ents. At last he began to recover, though with the pros- 
pect of being a cripple for life. During his convalescence 
he read and thought much, and manifestly matured rapidly 
in intellect and in Christian character. Before he was able 
to rise from his bed, he was presented with a little daughter, 
whom he named Mabel, and for whom he cherished many 
bright hopes. Only one week after this, while his father 
was watching alone with him one night, he suddenly uttered 
that cry which so often accompanies death from heart-dis- 
ease, and expired in his father's arms. 

Extracts from a private Note-book. 

"May 17th. 

"My dear son James died in my arms this morning at 
half-past four o'clock ; — a noble creature, never had been 
well ; prepared, I believe, by the long and hot furnace in 
which he had been lying, for the great change. He died in 
my arms, leaving a young wife, and a babe one week old. 

" Oh for grace, for submission, for faith !" 

"May 19th. 

" Buried our dear James ; age, twenty-two years and ten 
months. Funeral large, kind, sympathizing. Doctor Strong 
officiated, and exceedingly well. Services began at his 
house, where, over his coffin, I baptized little Mabel. Sing- 
ing there, ' Flee as a bird,' etc. At my house, all my chil- 
dren present; all went to the grave; singing soft and good. 

R. P took charge of the funeral, and every thing went 

like a clock. 

" O my noble, affectionate, generous, suffering child ! A 
child of God ! To die is gain ! Vale, vale /" 



414 JOHX TODD. 

It was a terrible blow to the tender-hearted father, from 
which he never fully recovered. For months that cry rang 
in his ears. 

To Mrs. K J. W . 

" June 20th. 

"It is so natural, when the heart is full of any thing, joy 
or sorrow, to want to pour it out upon others, that I fear, 
were we now to see you, you must justly feel that we were 
burdensome; but ' a friend is born for adversity.' 

"After more than five months of most terrible suffering 
and pain, after his faithful mother had gone to him day and 
night, all that time, as none but a mother could do, after 
hopes and fears (we now wonder how we had any hope), our 
dear James, in his twenty- third year, was taken from us. 
He was our beautiful staff, and it was broken without a mo- 
ment's warning at last. I was alone with him, and he died 
in my arms, leaving a little daughter just a week old. He 
lived just long enough to give her her name — Mabel Todd. 
His was the largest, brightest intellect among all our chil- 
dren, and the most loving disposition. ' The whole commu- 
nity loved James Todd ;' and w T hen his funeral took place, 
every store was voluntarily closed. He was a member of 
my church, and secretary and treasurer of our Sabbath-school. 
During his sickness he ripened fast. As the leaves of the 
tree fell off, it was seen that the bird had built her nest in a 
strong place. When we laid him in our beautiful cemetery, 
the heavens^ were dark and the thunders loud ; but hardly 
had we laid him in his resting-place when a full, complete, 
low rainbow was flung upon the cloud in the east, bright as 

the smile of God. Forgive this long moan, dear Mrs. W ; 

sorrow knows not where to stop." 

In this last year of his ministry he preached very often in 
the new jail, Pittsfield having just been made the county 
town. 

" September 19th. 

"I'm preaching to the spirits in prison; and, as many 
who don't go to any church crowd in to see the prisoners 
preached at, I have made them contribute, and have already 
one hundred dollars to begin a jail library. I don't believe 
any other fifty men in the county receive half the attention 
and expense that those fifty rascals do." 



LIFE AT PITTS FIELD. 415 

"Later. 
" I preach three times on the Sabbath ; once to the prison- 
ers in the jail, a punctual and attentive audience, and with 
whom I am so popular that I may get a call when I have 
done in my parish. I have been the means of getting them 
an organ and a library." 

To Miss K M , England 

" December 15th. 

"My dear Miss M ,— Our mutual friend, Mr. P , 

informs me that you have lost your aged mother, and were 
with her when the unseen hand lifted the latch and beckoned 
her away. I congratulate you that you have now a living 
mother (' Whosoever keepeth my sayings shall never die '), 
who can die no more. I congratulate you on the fact that 
she knew, and you know, whom she believed, and that the 
aged pilgrim has reached her home ; the old ship, with spars 
broken and sails rent, has entered the harbor, and storms 
will no more beat upon her, nor waves of doubt toss her, 
nor midnight darkness settle over her. Mourning is not the 
word to apply to such partings. I congratulate you once 
more that you have so many memories left, and among them 
the recollection that you had the honor of ministering to her 
last days and years, and probably were in her last earthly 
thoughts. God knew the trials of ministering to age, and 
therefore gave the command, 'Honor thy father and thy 
mother,' with the promise of present reward. Happy the 
child who can feel that she met this requirement faithfully 
and cheerfully. Now I seem to feel it impossible, even if I 
were not a stranger, to send oif a letter of sympathy over 
the great ocean, and for thousands of miles, and have any 
thing left in it, when it reaches you, but the chill of the 
ocean and the faintness of distance. It seems like a kind of 
polite mockery ; and yet, my gentle friend, were I with you, 
I could say no more, feel no more, nor comfort any more 
than I now can. For the first year, after my friends are 
gone, they seem to be going from me ; after that, to be com- 
ing toward me : on the same principle, doubtless, that cars 
which do not move seem to be coming to us, when really it 
is our cars that are going toward them. It must be the old 
soldiers, who come out of many battles and struggles, and 
the aged disciples, who come out of 'great tribulation,' who 



416 JOHN TODD. 

wear robes very white. God bless you, good friend, and re- 
ward you for all that you have done or will do for human- 
ity, whether it be in the form of mother, or that which is 
only related to Christ. Yours, in the love of Jesus." 

" March 20th, 1872. 
"I would not have thought that I ever could lose my 
courage and resolution to the degree that I have. I tried 
hard, from the week of prayer, to get up a revival and to 
convert men, but I couldn't, and the Lord wouldn't, and so 
we are just so — very united, because frozen together." 

To J.K. N . 

"April 5th. 
" I am always more than glad to receive a letter from you ; 
and if I don't write so often, you must remember that I am 
an old man ; that it takes the old mill longer to grind out 
the poor weekly sermon than it once did ; that I have my 
great parish still on me ; that I have a great many letters to 

write ; and, finally, that I am incorrigibly lazy We are 

sorry to hear about the ill health of your good wife. What 
weights God has to put on us to keep us down ! We who 
have had so much sickness in our family, and who have 
stood at so many graves, know how to sympathize with you 
all, and hope and pray that the cloud may soon turn into a 

shower that shall make your home brighter than ever 

As for me, I write and preach, and preach and write, and 
seem to be like an old frigate rolling in the trough of the sea, 
not quite in harbor, and not in a condition to bound off on a 
new voyage. My people throw up their caps, and cry, c Oh, 
he never preached so well as he does now !' But I know 
better; and I know that if I live nearly nine months longer 
I shall drop all responsibility, and own up that the world 
can do better without me than with me. Then I shall leave 
the parsonage, but where to go I know not. I have no house 
or home, and my people have not yet stirred about it. But 
I have no fears. God will give me just what he wants me 
to have. I believe in the decrees, and wish there were more 
of them, even such as would convert my hard-hearted ones 
before I die. Won't it be a new feeling, that you have 
done your poor work of life, that you have nothing more to 
which to look forward, and are now like a piece of soiled 
foam lying upon the waters, only waiting to have the waves 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 417 

recede and leave it tp dry up on the sand ! Well, I only 
pray that I may have grace to behave well — to do and to 

be just what the divine Master wishes We have had a 

terribly hard winter; the mountains are still white, and the 
ice is thick, and the frost is six or seven feet in the ground, 
and Spring dare not show the tips of her fingers, lest they 
be cut off as boy's fingers are in the cutting-machine. I wish 
I could see you ! I have the feeling that it would make me 
ten years younger. Who knows where I shall go or be after 
December 31st, 1872. Now, don't go to pity me as a vener- 
able, bent, crooked, trembling, whining, feeble old man ; for 
I walk without a cane, write and read without my glasses, 
write and study in my shirt-sleeves, have the Nimrodic fever 
once a year, and hie away into the forests, carrying prog and 
gun, and — do many other things equally ministerial and pu- 
ritanic. My glorious old girl unites with me in a profusion 
of love. Amen." 

His release from pastoral duty came sooner than he an- 
ticipated. 

To John [in pencil]. 

" April 16th. 

"A week ago to-night, while attending the installation- 
services of Mr. T in New York, I was taken numb ; 

went out, found I could not walk ; had a very sick night at 
the hotel ; next day with great difficulty got home ; have 
not sat up since. I am better, but weak and tottering ; still, 
I can walk. I shall at once ask my people to release me 
from all active service, and make such arrangements for the 
future as they deem right and proper. Not unlikely I have 
preached my last sermon." 

"Later. 

"The parish have unanimously voted that I have the 
house in which I live as long as I live (I prefer it altogether 
to any house they could procure), and that my salary be 
continued unaltered. I do think this is kind, generous, and 
noble — a high compliment to me, and an honor to them." 

For many years he had been expecting a stroke of paraly- 
sis, and on this account he was perhaps unnecessarily alarmed 
by the symptoms of this attack. Relieved from pastoral 
labor, and from all anxiety for the future, he soon regained 
comfortable health. 



418 JOHN TODD. 

To his Brother William^ on the Loss of his Wife. 

"May 6th. 

"How little did we think, when we were boys, what oar 
path in life would be, or through what waters we should be 
called to wade ! Your letter came to-day, and I hasten to 
give you the assurance of my warmest sympathy and love. 
It is a matter of thankfulness (and in our sorrows we must 
not forget this), that you have had this true aad faithful 
friend with you and by you so many years, to share all your 
joys and sorrows — the best friend a man can have. I have 
always had a great esteem for her humble, sincere, and true 
piety, and have no doubt .she has gone to dwell among those 
meek and quiet spirits ' which in the sight of the Lord are 
of great price.' I do earnestly sympathize with you in your 
loneliness and almost helplessness. You will live over and 
think over the past, and, doubtless, recall much that you 
wish had been otherwise ; but all these memories will soften 
the heart, and keep you from dwelling too much on the pres : 
ent. Were it not that the cup of life has bitter dregs as we 
come near the bottom, we should be too unwilling to have 
it taken from our lips. In a few weeks, after the first waves 
of sorrow have rolled over you, you will begin to feel, not 
that she is going from you, but that she is coming toward 
you, and you will soon meet. This was sudden ; but old 
people usually fall suddenly ; as the aged trees of the forest 
fall, not in the crashing storm, but after the storm is past 
and all is still. You won't feel this wind prostrating you ; 
and yet you may find that it slowly but surely is undermin- 
ing your strong constitution. Oh, it gives me unspeakable 
joy to feel that all our father's family belonged to Christ, 
and will, I hope and pray, all meet again, where God shall 

wipe away all tears from their eyes I feel that my 

life-work is done, and that I can only present to the Master 
a few withered leaves, instead of the great sheaves of wheat, 

which I ought to have brought him I mingle my 

prayers constantly with yours, that you may have the rich- 
est consolations of Christ. Keep near him ; there is none 
like him." 

At the meeting of the trustees of Williams College, in 
June, Doctor Todd resigned his seat among them, and Rev. 
Mr. Flint was chosen his successor, the title of D.D. being 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 419 

conferred upon him at the same time. The following an- 
nouncement of the change was sent by the retiring trustee 
to his successor : 

" June 8th. 
"Heverendus Ephraimus Flint, A.B., A.M., D.D., Curator, 
etc., etc., etc. : 

" O Saxum magnum ! thee, Doctor illustrissime, i congrat- 
ulate, docUssime et illustrissime, that thou, by the uplifting 
of thy friends, hast risen to the sublime position of Doctor 
Divinitatis ! How hard they lifted and tugged to attain 
this, i shall not now relate ; but i, i, laid down and stripped 
off my honors, that thou mightest become Curator Coll. 
Gull., and take thy seat among the great, while i, at the 
end of twenty-seven years' service, return to that obscurity 
which is my natural condition. Do thou valiantly in Israel, 
and possess the gates of thine enemies ! and, O Saxum mag- 
num ! when thy head is lifted up into the bright sunshine, 
do not thou forget the humble friend who did what he could 
to bring thee out of the prison of Ignotum. Great Doctor, 
i sit down at thy feet, most humble, and shall ever rejoice 
to see thy shadow enlarge ! 

" Dear Doctor, i am thine truly and humbly, 

" Jno. Todd." 

The death of a promising young minister in the neighbor- 
hood, near the close of the year, called forth the following 
letter to his father : 

To Mr. C . 

" October 28th. 

"My dear Sir, — I feel so little acquainted with you, that 
I fear you will feel that I am intruding, while I simply ex- 
press my deep sympathy with you and your family in your 
recent deep, long-to-be-continued affliction. To think how 
that young prophet has been born, trained, educated, en- 
tered and honored the ministry, completed his work, and 
entered into his rest, and all since I have been a pastor in 
this place ; to think how much we need humble, earnest, and 
able workmen in the Master's vineyard ; to know how quali- 
fied he seemed to be, and what large promise he gave of 
great usefulness, by his natural lovely traits of character, by 
his thorough education, by the magnetism of his manner, by 



420 JOHN TODD. 

his humble and yet manly piety ; alas ! it makes it all seem 
a dream ! I mourn for the Church of God, and for the cause 
which lay so near his heart. c Verily, thou art a God who 
hidest thyself.' He does not explain, or lift the curtain be- 
hind which he conceals his providences. l What I do thou 
knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.' 

" The first thing I want his father and mother and family 
to do is, to bow in silence, submission, faith, and. hope, and 
believe that God is wise and good, even when clouds and 
darkness surround him. The next thing I want you to do 
is, to thank God that he gave you such a son to give back 
to him. Then I want you to feel that he is not far from you, 
but so near that you will be the better for his life and death, 
as long as you remain on earth. Don't ask that the cloud 
be ever entirely taken up from your home; it never will be; 
but it may become so luminous that you can see bright 
stars through it. Forgive my intrusion, and receive my 
warm and deep sympathy, and my earnest prayer that, as 
you pass through the fires, the flame may not consume, and 
through the deep waters, they may not overflow. I have no 
right to claim any title here other than that of stranger, and 
yet I venture to subscribe myself your sympathizing friend." 

To John. 

" October 22d. 

" I am distressed about Lucy's going off to Europe alone 
with her children, and you all wonder why I don't go with 
her. Now, you can't realize that with age comes timidity, 
and a want of what the English call pluck. I have a great 
dread of being sick away from home — a great dread of any 
change. I want to creep along near the shore, where I can 
run into a harbor when the wind blows or the storm comes. 
I can't describe it, but it is a feeling of uncertainty as to 
every step, and of dimness that is drawn over every object." 

Toward the close of the year, the church and parish in- 
vited the Rev. E. O. Bartlett, of Providence, to become Doc- 
tor Todd's successor, and the retired pastor wrote him as 
follows : 

"November 5th. 

" My deae Sir, — My eyes are in a state so unusual, and 
so unusable, that the doctor forbids me to use them at pres- 
ent: I must, therefore, make my say a short one. Before this 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 421 

you will have received a communication from my flock in- 
viting you to become their pastor. It seems as though your 
entrance here was providential, and I can not but hope it is 
all under the special direction of God. I need only say that 
a people who could bear with me over thirty years, and not 
have a single unpleasant thing occur, must be a remarkably 
good people. Sometimes there have been nearly forty col- 
lege-educated men in my congregation — a congregation dis- 
tinguished for education, wealth, refinement, and nobleness. 
The church is sound, and every thing in a most desirable 
condition. Were I now at the age of forty, I would prefer 
this post and this position to any one I know of. 

"But I took up my pen simply to say that, if Providence 
inclines you to come here, you will find me, I trust, broad 
enough, and man and Christian enough, to welcome you, 
and to be to you all that you could wish. It is my prayer 
that I may behave well and do no hurt ; if I can't do so, I 
think God will take me out of life, or I shall take myself 
out of town. At all events, you will account me a helper, 
and not a hinderance. I have no fear but we shall both 
wish to get along well together, and succeed in our en- 
deavors. You can hardly imagine how intense is my inter- 
est that my people have a man consecrated, pious, sound, 
and thorough in theology — a devoted and common-sense 
man. Excuse my fast writing, and believe me cordially and 
affectionately and truly yours." 

The installation took place on the first day of the new 
year, and the retired pastor delivered the " charge " in the 
same tender spirit of cordiality; and it is believed that he 
never failed in any respect to keep these promises. 

To Mrs. W . 

"January 6th, 1873. 

" I have three or four different kinds of feelings in my 
heart ; one is of great loneliness, having just seen my suc- 
cessor settled over my flock. I feel like one attending his 
own funeral, and seeing another man coming and marrying 
his own wife — like standing bolt upright, and seeing one's 
self turned into a shadow — like the commander of a great 
ship seeing himself turning into a figure-head." 

On the 3d of February, the thirty-first anniversary of his 
settlement, he preached, by request, a historical sermon, giv- 






422 JOHN TODD. 

ing a sketch of the First Church and its pastors from its be- 
ginning. From his statements with reference to his own 
pastorate we learn that, during the thirty-one years, he had 
administered over five hundred baptisms, attended over nine 
hundred funerals, labored in six great revivals, and admit- 
ted over one thousand to the church, " and had those who 
thought they passed from death unto life at Maplewood 
(Young Ladies') Institute made a profession here, the num- 
ber would have amounted to twelve hundred at least." 

Early in April, Doctor Todd and his wife made a trip to 
Philadelphia, and received a most cordial welcome from 
their many friends in that scene of their former 'labors and 
trials. "We have been amazed how many hold us in 
green and warm remembrance. The papers say I have re- 
turned after a 'fortnight's' excursion, 'in fine health and 
spirits.' What would the papers not say, if they knew 
all the attentions and kindnesses we received while away ! 
Why, types wouldn't begin to describe it ! . . . . I have re- 
turned stronger, in better health and spirits, with more hope 
and courage, laden with sweet memories, and oppressed by a 
sense of the kindnesses received. Mrs. T. has been so ' set 
up' by the journey that I have weighty fears lest she would 
not be able to come down to 'common doings.'. . . . Please 
greet all who may ask after us; and take a cathedralful of 
love and thanks for yourselves, till Mrs. T. writes, which she 
will shortly do, and with an appropriateness that makes my 
very pencil tremble." 

On his return, he spent a week with each family of his 
children in Ansonia and New Haven, Connecticut, preaching 
in both places. In the former place he administered the 
communion for the last time, and in the latter he administer- 
ed baptism for the last time, giving a name to the youngest 
of his grandchildren ; and those who were present will not 
soon forget the group of parents and babies, the font filled 
with rose-buds, or the prayer of the aged father, so appropri- 
ate and touching in its allusions, so tender in its feeling, so 
fragrant with the breath of the faith and love and hope of 
an imperishable youth. 

Soon after his return he wrote to his friend, J. K. "N , 

who had become president of a university in Mississippi, as 
follows : 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 428 

"May 20th. 

"I have long been wishing to write to yon, but you are 
so far away it wearies me to carry or follow my letters so 
far; and I have so much to say, and know not what to say, 
that days and weeks rush by, and still your good letters re- 
main staring me in the face, and crying out, 'For shame! 
for shame !' The most important thing in the world is one's 
self, and so there I begin. I am doing nothing ; i. e., I only 
preach about two sermons on the Sabbath, here and there, 
write weekly for the Congregationalist, some for the Observer 
and Sunday School Times, and loaf, and groan that Samson 
must grind in the mill, when he wants to be pulling down 
the very pillars of Dagon's temple. Wife and I have just 
returned from a journey to New Haven, New York, Phila- 
delphia, and Delaware, where we had a kind of l Io triumphe ' 
all the way, and were feted and toasted till my wife is so 
'set up' that I can hardly board with her since. She is 
pretty well, as handsome (only sixty -seven years old) as 
ever, worries greatly to see me set aside, feels that light, and 
wisdom, and greatness (wives never dare say much about 
the goodness of their husbands !), and judiciousness, will and 
must and shall die with her husband ; and though she has 
not exactly convinced me of all this, yet I begin to feel that 
ruin to our churches and to the world can't be so far off as 
it used to be ! 

" So you are changed into a man-of-all-work, to fill your 
new field, sowing and tilling, and reaping full ears and 
blasted. Well, I can't judge for you ; and every man must 
paddle his own canoe in his own way, only remembering that 

it should go forward, and not backward or sideways 

Now, don't scowl, and purse up your lips, as if I were hitting 
the dignity of the President of Tougaloo University. Far 
be that from me ! I take off my hat, and reverence such a 
title and commission, though written on birch-bark and hung 
on a thorn-bush. I am delighted at the idea of your com- 
ing to Williamstown. I have resigned my trusteeship ; so I 
can't stand in the way of any honors, or break any eggs that 
the good old hen may want to confer or lay. President 
Hopkins and I are enjoying (?) l otium cum dignitate? Ah 
me ! how Latin revives in one's memory when writing to the 
president of a university ! Why, I almost want to talk it. 



424 JOHN TODD. 

Three babies ! how fast you grow rich ! Blessings on them ! 
I have just baptized my twelfth living grandchild : think of 

that — and be humble ! I'm as ignorant as * Nicodemus, 

who built the ark ' of all your section of country ; but I imag- 
ine a poor, illiterate, kind, stupid, prejudiced population, half- 
civilized in habits and three-quarters barbarous; the mud- 
holes inhabited by crocodiles, flamingoes, cranes, and mosqui- 
toes — the woods, by squirrels, owls, and turkey-buzzards (no 
gophers !) ; the waters stagnant and sluggish, inhabited only 
by bull-heads and blood-suckers, though called rivers ! Now, 
isn't that the right picture ? I may well say here, that I 
write with a pencil, to designate that I know my letters 
are not worth preserving, and because my hand goes stead- 
ier, and my (what you profanely call) hieroglyphics are not 
quite so bad. My wife sends love, greetings, and every 
thing but money to you and yours. As you value your 
word or your life, don't you fail to come and see me this 
summer. Would you think that the snow is still lying on 
our mountains in vast drifts, in sight of my study ? I wish 
you had it ; 'twould refresh you." 

To Mrs. W- , on the Death of her Brother. 

" May 15th. 

" Dear, dear Mrs. W , — We were so detained by a 

sick grandchild, that we have but just reached home; and 
here we find your letter, so heavy with sorrow that we could 
hardly hold it up long enough to read it. I had had such 
strong hopes that your dear brother had not done his life- 
work, and that he was to be lent to earth longer, that I was 
surprised, even to a shock. How unlike our ways are i JIis 
ways.' We, were we to select, should not strike down the 
strong, gifted, noble, almost perfect man, at the very noon- 
tide of life ! But I am talking about only one side ; about 
c striking down,' when I ought to be thinking of the noble 
warrior called home, the faithful servant promoted, the earth- 
born becoming as the angels of God, the weary one gone 
to rest his head on the bosom of Everlasting Love. I don't 
know what I can say, my dear friend, to comfort you : the loss 
is too great, the wound too fresh, the grief too deep, for human 
sympathy ; and yet we love to know that we are surrounded 
by an atmosphere of sympathy, and that we mourn one so 



LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 425 

important that, as at the falling of the lofty tree, the ground 
trembles far around. You know I consider you all as a fam- 
ily of nature's nobility, and so I feel that 'a prince is fallen 
in Israel.' P am sorry for his afflicted wife, favored as few 
wives have been; and I am sorry for those fatherless chil- 
dren ; and I am sorry for you, who now seem to be bending 
under a second widowhood ; and I am sorry for the brother, 
who feels as if one-half of himself were smitten down; and 
for the sister, also a widow. What memories must crowd 
upon you as you meet together ! How much to recall in the 
past ! and how much to hope for in the long future before 
you ! Every day you are nearer to them than you were yes- 
terday. Ah ! these our precious earthly jewels are falling 
away ; but we know that Christ is making up his crown. 
They, doubtless, wonder at our sorrow if they know it ; and 
we should have no sorrow could we see how much they 
have already become like the Redeemer. Letters, my dear 

Mrs. W , are cold ; they have no tones that are tender, 

no breathings that warm the heart, and no power to go di- 
rectly to the soul and comfort it. But there is a Comforter 
who can do all that, and far more ; and I pray that you may 
hear Christ say to you all, ' I will not leave you comfortless ; 
I will come unto you.'" 

Soon after his return, he preached once more, and for the 
last time, to his old flock. This last sermon that he ever 
wrote had been prepared with special care. His theme was 
that which had all his life been most precious to him, and on 
which he had best loved to speak — the divinity and glory of 
Jesus Christ. "The Word was made flesh." Could he have 
foreseen the events of the next three months, he would hard- 
ly have wished to change the closing sentence: "Oh, the re- 
deemed ! the redeemed ! they shall see the King in his beau- 
ty ; they shall walk with him in white garments; they shall 
drink of the river of pleasure which will forever flow at his 
right hand; he will meet his brethren, as Joseph did, and 
say, ' Come near to me,' and so they will be ' forever with the 
Lord.' Oh, the last look we give on earth, we want fixed on 
thee/ and the first look we give in eternity, we want fixed 
on thee! the last song on earth, and the first in heaven, we 
want to be — Praise to the Lamb who was slain for us, and 
who washed us from our sins in his own blood." 

28 



426 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

HIS STUDY. 

A pleasant Room.— The Library.— Missionary Magazines.— Positively Dis- 
graceful. — An omnivorous Reader. — Guns. — The Wood-nymph. — Drawers 
of Sermons. — Canes. — The Golden Wedding. — The sick Child. — Two old 
Pastors. — The hard Man.— Jerusalem. — The lame Brother.— Mementoes. 
— The Fisherman's Lounge. — Pain.— The Desk. — The stolen Knife. — The 
Clock. — The Chair. — The inner Life of Imagination, Memory, Hope. — 
Sources of Power. 

Let us pay a visit to Doctor Todd's study. It was here 
that most of his hard work was done, and, in fact, most of 
his life was spent. It is a large, pleasant room, up one flight 
of stairs, on the south side of the house. In the winter — and 
much of the year is winter in Berkshire — the sunshine lies 
warm upon the carpet, and an open coal fire glows brightly 
in a large soap-stone stove. At the farther end of the room 
a broad arch opens into a second room as wide, and half as 
deep, as the first, which contains the library. In the middle 
of its west wall the book-cases part for a window, adorned 
somewhat with stained glass, which looks out toward the 
sunset, and the surpassingly beautiful outline of the Tagh- 
conic hills. ^The library contains two or three thousand vol- 
umes, and is of a mixed character. At the first glance there 
seems to be very little that is modern or valuable. A re- 
cent visitor, giving his impressions upon a cursory survey, 
writes : " The book-shelves were well filled with books, but 
they were all old books by Puritan authors, abounding with 
bound volumes of tracts, missionary magazines, etc. I did 
not notice a single volume of current literature, art, science, 
or theology. He was emphatically a man of the old school." 
The remark shows that the writer's observation was hasty 
or careless; for nestling among the old brown -calf books 
are many of the most recent and most advanced publica- 
tions on all subjects. Doctor Todd did not draw the fresh- 
ness of his thoughts from old "tracts and missionary maga- 
zines." In his reading he kept abreast of the times. But 



HIS STUDY. 



427 



the general appearance of the library is antiquated ; and, as 
a whole, it is not a choice collection. Doctor Todd himself 
felt it. " My library is positively disgraceful ! Oh, for books, 
books !" Its condition is easily accounted for. 

In the fire which destroyed his house and most of his ef- 
fects, when he first went to Pittsfield, the library which he 
had been selecting and purchasing for many years with great 
cost and care was mostly consumed. In their overflowing 




DE. TODD S STUDY. 



sympathy, his friends made him a great many presents of 
books ; but, strange to say, they proved to be, in general, 
better adapted to fill his shelves than to store his mind. 
Then there were old volumes given him by aged pastors of 
the preceding generation, preserved as keepsakes rather than 
for their intrinsic value. Here, for instance, are a few vol- 
umes from the library of his father-in-law, musty relics of 
the theology of almost a century ago. And here are the 
"bound tracts" referred to; they are a small collection of 
the publications of one of the London Tract Societies, which, 



428 JOHN TODD. 

after publishing and republishing his writings for many- 
years without the slightest acknowledgment of their author, 
at last made him this precious donation as a substitute for 
copyright money. Doctor Todd did not use such books 
much; but he referred to the more recent works in his li- 
brary constantly, and he read a great deal more than was 
to be found there ; for after his great loss he made little ef- 
fort to accumulate a library. Indeed, he was an omnivorous 
reader, devouring every thing that he could lay hands on, 
not only with reference to theology, but that had any bear- 
ing upon his various pursuits of fancy, or any thing in sci- 
ence, literature, or art that was of interest. " Deep are my 
regrets that I have not read less and thought more. We 
waste, or rather never accumulate, the strength that might 
be ours, by not demanding it. Many a writer popular for 
an hour has spent his life in shooting sparrows with fine shot, 
because he was too indolent to carry a rifle with a calibre 
sufficiently large to bring down the buffalo." 

This figure may have been suggested by a glance at the 
entrance to his library. "As you stand in my study and 
look into the adjoining library, } 7 ou notice that over the 
door are several things that have an untheological look. 
There is a long, small, iron-pointed javelin, which came from 
Africa. Near it is a long, double-barreled gun — ' my Secesh 
gun.' What is its history? I don't know. It was made 
in Liege, Belgium, for so says the engraving on the barrel. 
But whether the man who made it is alive or dead, I know 
not. It is a powerful gun ; has two barrels, which are near- 
ly four feet long. It weighs twelve and a half pounds. It 
has a bruise on the breech. The two locks, and indeed the 
whole thing, seem to be in order. It was taken on the field 
of battle at Baton Rouge, and the man who carried it out 
was probably killed. It was sent to me by a young captain, 
a friend of mine." Near-by are several other guns and pis- 
tols and revolvers, some of them of the best and most recent 
manufacture, others mere curiosities, from their antiquity or 
associations. Here, for instance, is an old flint musket, man- 
ufactured long ago in Pittsfield by a parishioner now passed 
away. It found its way down to North Carolina, fired its 
last shot at " the boys in blue," and was picked up on the 
field of Newbern, and sent home to the Doctor by one of the 



HIS STUDY. 429 

brightest and most promising young men of his congrega- 
tion, who never came back himself. Up in one corner of the 
collection hangs a pair of snow-shoes, brought home from 
Canada, on which, it is tolerably certain, the owner never 
walked. At one foot of the arch are piled two or three 
shells, sent from the South, one of them, perhaps, still unex- 
ploded. At the opposite foot of the arch "you see an eight- 
sided, pillar- shaped thing, with a marble - colored basin, and 
a pure marble top, the top being several inches larger than 
the pillar, which also is eight-sided. The whole height is 
two feet and nine inches. Then, on the top of all this is a 
glass cover about two and a half feet high, and large enough 
round to more than cover the basin. In the centre of the 
basin is a little brass jet, containing nearly forty little holes 
in a circle, each hole just large enough to admit a very fine 
needle. Then, outside of the glass, and on the marble top, 
are three little statuettes, white as the driven snow. They 
are about eight inches high, and each is intently looking at 
the little jet. One is c Winter,' pausing on his skates, as if 
in astonishment to see the sight; for I have only to touch a 
little brass cock, and up leaps the water through those little 
holes, nearly forty little streams, and each springing two 
feet into the air, and then turned into a myriad of silver 
drops, bright as diamonds, leaping, and laughing as they rise 
and fall, and dropping into the basin with the sweetest, ring- 
ing, singing sound ever heard. It seems as if the fairy 
daughters of music had got under my glass cover, and were 
each playing on her own harp. I can think of nothing but 
pearls dropping into a well, or golden balls falling into cups 
of silver. With what profusion the jewels are tossed out! 
And yet Winter is gazing, and he seems to forget to put 
down his foot with the skate on it. On the other side is 
'Autumn,' with his sheaf of grain, leaning against a bee-hive, 
and with great satisfaction and admiration looking at the 
fountain. On another side still is a gentle girl coming to 
the fountain with her pitcher in her hand, and a dove 
perched on her shoulder. These all seem to stop in admira- 
tion of what they see. I never tire of this beautiful thing. 
I hear its noise, and I seem to be in the woods on the mount- 
ain-side, listening to the brook as it glides between mossy 
rocks, and then leaps over stones, and dances down into the 



430 



JOHN TODD. 



deep basin below. I seem to be on the little stream in the 
deep woods, where, in childhood, I used to wander, and list- 
en to the sweet notes of the wood-thrush. I have many me- 
morials of kind friends in my study which are beautiful; but 
the stranger hardly notices them, he is so much delighted 

with my tiny fountain — 
the wood-nymph whom I 
have coaxed to come in 
here in the second story, 
and to pause long enough 
to sing her wild song, and 
to dance in her robes of 
light. There it stands a 
living fountain. Nobody 
can see how the waters 
get there, or how they are 
carried away. There it 
leaps and rings day and 
night, never weary, never 
pausing, never other than 
beautiful. I sometimes 
almost imagine my fount- 
ain to be the very one 
spoken of by the prophet 
— a fountain for Jerusa- 
lem and the house of Ju- 
dah. I almost imagine it 
the fountain of life, and 
my little marble men to 
be angels 'desiring to look 
into 'it. But, ah me! that 
fountain was opened thou- 
sands of years ago, and 
has been gushing up ever 
since ; and it will still gush up when I and my dear little 
fountain shall be forgotten. But a few can ever see mine; 
thousands will see that, and rejoice in it forever. O fount- 
ain of life ! opened by the Lord Jesus Christ, not to bless one 
solitary study merely, but to well up in every sanctuary, and 
in ten thousand human habitations. The dancing feet of 
childhood pause, and the silvery voice is hushed, as the child 




THE FOUNTAIN. 



BIS STUDY. 431 

gazes at my fountain ; but the waters of life cause the lame 
to leap like the hart, the dumb to sing, and the song of hope 
and of faith to rise up loud and sweet, till its echoes are re- 
turned from heaven. O my little fountain, speak to my read- 
er, and whisper in his ear, ' The waters of life, the waters of 
life ! Whoso drinketh of them shall never thirst.' " 

Within the library are nine large book-cases, two of them 
made by his own hands during his first settlement. Every 
book-case is open, the opening being made to arch overhead 
by corner pieces of black walnut sawed in open work, hung 
on hinges, and enlivened with strips of gilt, and has in the 
lower part of it three large drawers, filled for the most part 
with manuscripts. " In forty-six years I have written over 
four thousand sermons. The full drawers on hand, even 
now, astonish me." 

The walls of " the study " are covered with pictures, 
some of them really fine chromos and engravings, others of 
no merit, or worse ; but every one of them has its history and 
associations which have made it sacred. Everywhere there 
are articles which have each its story, and which have fur- 
nished each a leaf in his published writings. 

In one corner stand a dozen canes. One of them, a very 
handsome gold-headed ebony stick, was presented to Rev. 
Heman Humphrey, D.D., ex-president of Amherst College, 
and a predecessor, and, later, a parishioner of Doctor Todd's, 
by his children when, with his wife, he celebrated his golden 
wedding. It bears the inscription : 

"Hodie Baculum. Cras Corona. 1858, April 20th. 
Rev. Heman Humphrey, D.D., Pittsfield." 

After his death it was sent to Doctor Todd, with the fol- 
lowing note : 

"My dear Dr. Todd, — We have all felt that in the 
breaking-up of our home here we should like to leave some- 
thing with you which would be a slight expression of our 
appreciation of your kindness shown to our family through 
so many years and in manifold ways. We have selected 
this cane, because we have thought that its associations 
with our dear father, to whom it belonged, might give it 
additional value to you. It was one of the gifts of love 
presented to him at his golden wedding (bearing that date), 



432 JOHN TODD. 

and was often carried by him during his later years, until, 
at the Master's call, he dropped * the staff,' and passed oyer 
the river to receive ' the crown.' 

"You may, perhaps, like to give it a place in your collec- 
tion of articles of association and interest. Wherever out- 
broken family may be scattered, we must always remember 
with sincere gratitude all that you have ever done for us 
in the varied scenes and experiences of our dear Pittsfield 
home. Most sincerely yours, S. W. H." 

" Did I ever feel worthy to have that glorious old minister 
sit at my feet for twenty years ? Do I feel worthy to own 
this gift of love on which he once leaned ? No, no ! The 
cane seems to say, ' You know, sir, that he bore fruit even to 
the end of life, and when he fell at eighty-two, he was found 
watching and at work. The blossoms on the tree in autumn 
were hardly less beautiful than those of spring. I notice, sir, 
that you never pass his grave in the cemetery without cast- 
ing your eye on his tomb. The very sunlight that falls 
upon it seems softer and purer than what falls elsewhere; 
and no one ever passes this grave without feeling, if he knew 
him well, that there rests the dust of the most perfect char- 
acter it was ever his lot to know.' Yes, good cane, I know 
all this, and often feel humbled that I so long shared his 
confidence and friendship without improving more by them ; 
and often mourn that I can recall so many things by which 
I might have done more for his comfort ; but I can truly 
say I honored him as a son, and reverenced him little less 
than I should a prophet. Go back to thy nail, staff of beau- 
ty ! I shall probably never lean upon thee, or carry thee out 
of my study ; but thou wilt awaken memories tender, sad, 
and yet thrilling. I doubt if thou couldst have fallen into 
the hands of one who would prize thee more, thou memorial 
of a great and good man, and of a remarkable family. This 
simple chaplet I weave, and hang upon the old minister's 
cane." 

The next cane, " a great, heavy, black, club-like fellow," 
belonged to the Doctor's eldest son when in college. The 
next, a light, white stick, of no value in itself, was once pur- 
chased and carried for a little while by the younger son, be- 
fore he died. "The next — that beautifully mottled cane — 



HIS STUDY. 433 

was born in Florida. I believe it is a species of thorn; 
smooth as silver, and about as hard. It has a large, preten- 
tious ivory head, wrought octagonally. It was sent to me by 
a sick child, when away from home " [his invalid daughter, 
Mary]. " It is a beautiful cane, valuable to me because con- 
nected with memories and anxieties which have left their 
deep marks upon me, but which are not to be spoken of. I 
shall probably never use it ; but I could not spare that cane." 

The next cane was carried for many years by his father- 
in-law, Doctor Brace, till he was called away from Doctor 
Todd's own house, and left it behind. The next was not 
only owned for fifty years by Doctor Brace, but carried for 
sixty-five years more before that by Rev. Joshua Belden, his 
predecessor for that length of time in the pulpit at Newing- 
ton, Connecticut. " They both used this cane all this time. 
Simple stick ! if you could speak, of how many weddings, 
and sick-beds, and funerals could you give me the history ? 
As you stood in the corner of their study, how many prayers 
did you witness? How often did you go into the pulpit, as 
the man of God leaned on you and trembled, under his re- 
sponsibility ! 

"That stout, knotty, heavy, orange-wood cane grew in 
South Carolina. It was the gift of a hard, rough man, a 
long, long time ago. I wish I could recall any good in him. 
But he has gone to the dead, and I am not called upon to 
judge him." The gift was received when, a poor, sick stu- 
dent in college, he spent a few months in Carolina for his 
health. 

"Little, long, crooked, and unwrought orange stick, thou 
comest next ! What of thee? Thou art a child of the East. 
Thou wast hanging over the north wall of Jerusalem, when 
a beloved missionary cut thee off the parent tree and sent 
thee home. So thou tellest me that Jerusalem is still there 
— her ' walls continually before Him ' — still trodden under- 
foot by the Gentiles, and waiting for deliverance ! Thou 
tellest me that the warm heart of the missionary still beats; 
and though he is now on the ' goodly mountain, even Leba- 
non,' yet he still remembers Jerusalem above his chief joy. 
Yes, and thou tellest me that there is a heart, greater, 
warmer, even than the good. Calhoun's, which beats over 
Jerusalem and his cause ! So the morning sun, glinting over 



434 JOHN TODD. 

Mount Olivet, fell on thee, as thou didst lean over the wall 
and look into Jerusalem ! Thou dost not tell me what thou 
sawest in that poor city, but thou leadest my thought away 
to that New Jerusalem, where nothing that defileth shall 
ever enter, and where even the orange-blossom shall not be 
the sweetest thing therein." 

The next was the favorite cane of his brother-in-law, Joab 
Brace, Jun., who was for so many years an inmate of his 
family. "That beautiful staff helped to support a lame 
brother, as he pronounced the valedictory oration at college 
commencement, as he stood up to be ordained a pastor, and 
as he went down to an early grave. The hand that leaned 
on thee has been cold many years, and the image of that 
sainted one has often visited me in my dreams. 

" But who will write the history of my canes forty years 
hence? What old men will lean on them? What memo- 
ries will they gather as years pass over them ? There is a 
broken one ; its history is strange, but I have no time to 
write it." And now it will forever remain unwritten. 

This corner is but an illustration of the associations that 
hang around the articles with which the room is crowded — 
all gifts, or memorials of scenes that are past or friends that 
are gone. 

In one corner stands a small glass case filled with stuffed 
birds of brilliant plumage. Yonder there is another, with a 
tiny tete-d-tete silver tea-set on the top of it, also under glass. 
Here hangs a^ barometer, often consulted; there stands a case 
of mineralogical specimens. Every vacant niche is occupied 
by some statuette or Rogers's group, supported on carved 
brackets. There on the floor, in one corner, is a square ma- 
hogany dressing-case, once elegant, the gift of a member of 
a former parish, but now tarnished by years of hard use. At 
this end of the room, opposite the library, stands a bright- 
colored lounge, a gift of some of the ladies of his parish, and 
on it an elegant gray blanket, embroidered with his name, 
the memento of a friend found in "the sunset land." It was 
of this lounge that he wrote in the little story of " The Old 
Fisherman's Dream." 

" One day while very busy he heard a knock at the door 
of his house. * Oh dear !' says he, ' I hope it is not any body 
that wants to see me. I am so hurried, I can't see any one.' 



HIS STUDY. 435 

Just then a head was thrust into the door : ' Father, some- 
body wants to see you.' 'Well, child, I am very busy, but I 
have read somewhere, The man that wants to see me is the 
man that I want to see.' So he dropped his net and went 
to the door, and, lo ! there stood one of the finest pieces of 
furniture, called a lounge, that he had ever seen. It seemed 
too grand to enter his dwelling. The man who brought it 
said it was a present to the old fisherman. The children 
thought it must be intended for mother's parlor ; but the 
note accompanying said it was for his sole use and behoof. 
He rubbed his hands for joy, and the children cooed and 
wondered over it and admired ! Sure enough, there it stood 
in its fresh beauty. The legs were of black walnut, and had 
been many years growing in Ohio ; the casters were of brass, 
and were dug out of the mines of England ; the hair which 
filled it came from India; the varnish which made its legs 
so bright came from Japan ; the covering was full of roses 
and flowers and bright colors, that were gathered from dif- 
ferent countries, and woven into the brocatel in the looms 
of France. The netting of lace that covered the pillow, with 
the huge deer woven into it, was manufactured in Scotland. 
The materials for making this couch had been ages in pre- 
paring, had been brought thousands of miles, and had em- 
ployed the industry and the skill of men who live in differ- 
ent countries and who spoke different languages. Is it any 
wonder that it was beautiful ? The note accompanying it 
intimated that it was from his friends, not to induce him to 
fish less, but to rest him when weary, and as a token of their 
approbation. So the first moment he could, the fisherman 
threw himself on it, and found it so perfect as to length, and 
width, and softness, and springiness, that in a few moments 
he was fast asleep, and as he slept he had a dream such as 
nothing but a new lounge could have created. He dreamed 
that, instead of being a poor fisherman, he was a minister of 
the Gospel. The lounge was changed into a pulpit, and he 
was in it ! Instead of the rolling waters of the sea, he was 
looking down on a great congregation. The fish were all 
changed into men and women and children. Instead of the 
net which he had been making was a sermon, from the text, 
'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these my dis- 
ciples, ye did it unto me.' He seemed to have a new cour- 



436 JOHN TODD. 

age and boldness, and he preached the Gospel of Christ with 
as much effort and skill as he had ever used to catch fish. 
As he spoke, all at once there seemed to be a noise, as if a 
wind had struck the house, and then a golden net seemed to 
be let down from heaven, as he would have let it down in 
the sea, and the net gathered all the congregation, old and 
young, into it, and it seemed to draw them all up nearer the 
pulpit and nearer the minister. And then he perceived there 
was joy beaming upon their faces and flashing from their 
eyes, and they were heard to break forth into singing. The 
song swelled up louder and louder, till it filled the house, 
and rose up even to the heaven of heavens. Then the old 
fisherman awoke from his sleep and found himself weeping 
for joy, and felt that the most blessed of all employments in 
the world was to be ' fishers of men,' whether you do or do 
not have a beautiful lounge to rest on." 

On this "beautiful lounge" Doctor Todd spent many 
weary and suffering hours. For though he was so strong 
and vigorous a man constitutionally, and was so cheery in 
manner and humorous in conversation that apparently he 
never knew fatigue or pain, there are few who have more 
infirmities to contend with, or who perform their work in 
greater distress. A dozen times in the course of a morn- 
ing's work he would stretch himself here for a moment, un- 
able to proceed without a little relief: the first thing that 
he did on returning from his pulpit was to throw himself 
here exhausted, and often in agony ; and whole days were 
spent here in enforced inaction. Never can the givers of 
this lounge realize how great their kindness was, or what a 
change it was for him to enter that "land which is very far 
off," where "the inhabitants shall not say, I am sick." 

On the side of the room opposite the windows and the 
fire stands the mahogany table where, during all the later 
years of his life, all his writing was done. It is a quaint 
affair, of unknown origin, but dark with age. It came into 
his hands from those of a Baptist pastor in the place. On 
either side it has, in the lower part, drawers for papers, and 
above, small cupboards filled with pigeon-holes, closed with 
doors, and connected by a shelf. The pigeon-holes are filled 
with envelopes, sheets of paper, postal cards, wrappers of all 
shapes and sizes, to meet the demands of his immense and 



HIS STUDY. 437 

varied correspondence. The drawers are full of every kind 
of sermon-paper. The top of the table and shelf are cov- 
ered with small trinkets and conveniences. Here is a stick 
of sealing-wax, and there half a dozen old-fashioned seals. 
Here is a calendar, and there a railroad time-table ; here a 
card of post-office regulations, and there a porcelain slate, 
with a list of things to be done written on it. Here lies 
his watch, when not carried, a handsome gold lever, with a 
white carnelian seal, which for years dangled from his fob 
when watches were so worn ; and there lie his spectacles, 
always taken off when he sat down here. He always used 
quill pens, and several of them are lying about, each worse 
than all the rest, utterly useless to any one else; and there 
are three or four knives for mending them. 

"About twenty-five years ago a friend of mine was going 
to England, and I sent by him to get me a case (twelve) of 
good pen-knives. I wanted the best, and enough to last me 
as long as I live. To be very sure, I went and bought just 
such a knife as I w r anted, and sent it out as a sample. When 
my friend got to Sheffield, he called on a friend of his. In 
the course of conversation he mentioned my knives, and was 
assured that he could have them made just like the pattern. 
The pattern-knife was in his hand, and on going down to 
breakfast he laid it on the mantel-piece. While they were 
gone down to breakfast a little black chimney-sweep came 
in, and, seeing my knife, stole it and made off with it. They 
were sorry, but the knife and the sweep were gone. My 
friend got a case of knives for me ; but they were not like 
the pattern, nor such as were adapted to making good pens. 
For twenty-five years I have been making pens with a poor 
knife. One of these poor knives is now before me. The 
pen that I write with was made with it. But I have never 
had a good knife, and seldom a good pen." 

In one corner stands one of Fairbanks's little letter-scales, 
of which he was the first to suggest the idea to the late 
Governor Fairbanks ; and in another, within easy reach, lie 
his well-worn Bible and Greek Testament, the latter a large 
copy of magnificent print, over which his father-in-law and 
his invalid daughter had successively pored, till they went 
to speak the language of heaven. And in the midst of all, 
directly before the eye, side by side in two little easel- 



438 JOHN TODD. 

frames, are pictures of the two dead children whose going 
took away so much of his life. Overhead hangs a beautiful 
clock of the regulator style, in a glass case — the gift of his 
associates on the committee for the entertainment of the 
American Board, at their second meeting in Pittsfield, as a 
tribute to his laborious and energetic management. At one 
side stands a small movable table, loaded with lexicons and 
maps. Beneath the table is a crowded waste-basket, and a 
round soap-stone, designed to warm the feet when too great 
activity of the brain has disturbed the circulation. Before 
the table stands a capacious but plain cane rocking-chair, in 
which, wrapped in a loose study-gown to receive company, 
but in his shirt-sleeves always when at work, sat the one 
whose presence lent to every thing its greatest charm. 

It will be perceived that in Doctor Todd's "study" there 
is nothing of any very great intrinsic value; yet this de- 
scription, heightened by touches from his own pen, is impor- 
tant on other accounts than merely as a frame to set off a 
picture of the man and his life. It reveals very much of his 
character, the affectionateness which clung to each token of 
friendship or memorial of the departed, the gratitude and 
self-depreciating humility with which each trifling gift was 
treasured, and the imaginativeness which, with a simple 
walking-stick, as with a magician's wand, could call up 
throngs of figures and scenes of thrilling interest; or in 
the sound of a falling jet of water could hear the voices of 
laughing and singing fairies, or the tinkling of golden balls 
in silver cups ; or in cheap Parian images could see angels 
gazing into the fountain of life. To him nothing of it all 
was cheap or common. Everywhere, but especially here, a 
thousand images unseen of others rose before him ; and in 
looking at the objects which he gathered around him, and 
in the midst of which he sat, and thought, and labored, and 
prayed, we see but the keys which unlocked the world in 
which he really lived. " You would hardly think," wrote he 
to a friend, " that a man of my age and granite features and 
long experience should still have to mourn that he lives too 
much, and too often, in an imaginary state, surrounded by 
circumstances so very different from realities ; yet so it is." 
And as in this account of his study we get an insight into 
his character, so, on the other hand, we obtain from it 



HIS STUDY. 439 

glimpses of the springs which fed his mental life and gave 
him influence and power. It was from this furniture and its 
associations that he drew much of his inspiration. Every 
article, freighted with memories and fancies, has had its in- 
fluence upon his thought and its expression ; and though his 
pen is idle, and his little fountain is silent, and his clock is 
still, and his study is dismantled, and its contents scattered, 
and the familiar spot will continue to exist only in fond 
memories, yet, in impressions made on immortal minds, and 
direction given to human lives, it will remain, lasting as a 
picture of eternity. 



440 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

DOCTOR TODD AS A PREACHER. 

Ambition to be a Preacher.— Conception of tbe Office.— The Greatest of 
Sciences.— Middle Ground.— His Doctrines.— No uncertain Sound.— Prac- 
tical Preaching.— Keverence for the Word of God.— No Doubts.— Com- 
mentaries.— Henry.— David and Paul.— Jonathan Edwards.— Thomas 
Chalmers.— Extempore Preaching.— Planning- a Sermon.— Manner of 
Writing.— Careless Style.— Appearance in the Pulpit.— Dress.— Beauty.— 
Voice. — Manner.— Prayers.— Hymns.— Characteristics of Preaching.— 
Simple Language.— Thought.— Illustration.— Solemnity.— Purifying the 
Fountain.— Knowledge of Human Nature.— Pathos.— Enthusiasm. — Im- 
agination.— Dramatic Power.— The Mount of God.— u It doth not yet 
appear." 

"I wish I knew how to preach, has been the cry of ray 
heart a thousand times. I once thought I did know, but 
that was a long time ago." 

" I have never sought to be or to do any thing but to be 
a true minister of Christ. Preaching has been my great ef- 
fort. I early determined to do what else I could, but, at all 
events, to make the pulpit the place of my strength." 

To be a preacher was, indeed, his great ambition all his 
life long, as it was also his chief joy. All other employ- 
ments were made secondary and subservient to this supreme 
business of preaching the Gospel. It is, therefore, mainly as 
a preacher that he is to be estimated and remembered. 

In his conception of the office of a preacher, the applica- 
tion of divine truth to the hearts and consciences of men 
stood most prominent. Hence the most important qualifi- 
cation for the work of the ministry, after a sanctified heart, 
was, in his opinion, a thorough theological training; and 
whenever he was called to aid in settling a minister, he 
never failed to judge of the candidate's abilities and prob- 
able success by his appearance in his theological examina- 
tion. Not that he approved of preaching scientific theology 
— in all his ministry he never preached but one course of 
sermons on theology, and could never be induced to repeat 
it — but he took the ground that no man can present truth 



DOCTOR TODD AS A PREACHER. 441 

clearly and forcibly who has not its principles thoroughly 
comprehended and scientifically unfolded in his own mind. 
His own studies in theology were from the first unremitted 
and severe, and there was no subject which had such inter- 
est for him as this "greatest of sciences." 

The theology which he accepted was what in these days 
is considered old-fashioned, but in point of fact it occupied 
a middle ground between Old -school Presbyterianism and 
modern Taylorism, both of which he cordially detested. 
For the distinctions and controversies of the " schools," how- 
ever, he cared very little. The doctrines with which he 
chiefly concerned himself were those which are held and 
preached by all evangelical schools and sects — " the fall and 
ruin of man, the trinity of the Godhead, the divinity and 
atonement of Christ, the necessity of being born of the Holy 
Spirit, the eternity of heaven and hell, the unchanging con- 
dition of the soul after death, and the greatness of God's 
character." These doctrines he employed incessantly, and 
expended upon them all his skill and power. And he wel- 
comed all who held to them as co-laborers in the Gospel, 
with a cordiality which endeared him to all evangelical de- 
nominations, and repudiated fellowship with all who re- 
jected them with a sternness which earned for him the un- 
dying hatred of Unitarians. It was to this treatment of 
divine truths that he attributed all his success as a preacher. 
"If I have ever had any power over my fellow-men, it has 
been by plainly and faithfully preaching God's word, and 
clearly stating my convictions, and the reasons for them. I 
have tried to have the trumpet give no uncertain sound." 

Of practical preaching, as it is called, the rebuking of spe- 
cific sins of his hearers, he did very little; and the preaching 
of politics, and the cheap eloquence of the denunciation of 
those who did not hear him, he left wholly to others. In 
this, no one who knew him, or who reads the story of his 
Groton ministry, will accuse him of fear, a feeling of which 
he seems to have been incapable, or of a desire to propitiate 
his hearers. The course which he pursued was adopted from 
principle, and a settled conviction that it was the one most 
likely to make his hearers better. " I have not been accus- 
tomed to name and preach against any particular amuse- 
ments — theatres, dramas, card-playing, and the like. I have 

29 



442 JOHN TODD. 

* 

thought it best to inculcate the great principles of the Bible 
on the conscience, to make the tree good, and the heart holy, 
and then to trust the tree would bring forth good fruits. I 
have tried to make you live and act ' as seeing Him who is 
invisible.' In my own experiences I have got along very 
comfortably, and been measurably cheerful, though I was 
never in a theatre, at the opera, or in a ball-room ; never 
saw a game of cards or billiards played. And you have all 
known, by my way of educating my own family, precisely 
how I have looked upon these things. I have often noticed 
that people are so much like children, that if you denounce 
an amusement, or a bad book, they will be sure to seek it. 
Let the pulpit recommend one good book, and perhaps one 
will buy it ; let it denounce a bad book, and ten will buy it. 
That is human nature." 

The basis of his theology, and of all his preaching, was 
the Bible. In accepting his call to the first church under 
his care, he wrote : " In my preaching I shall keep closely to 
the Word of God ; by this I would have you test my instruc- 
tions." And to this he faithfully adhered through his whole 
ministry. To interpret and expound the Word of God, 
rather than to philosophize and speculate, was, in his opin- 
ion, the business of the preacher. Often his sermons were 
expository ; often they were studies of Scripture characters ; 
often they were presentations of great facts and truths 
taught in the Scriptures ; and always they were full of 
Scripture language and imagery, and appealed to Scripture 
authority. For the Bible he always entertained the deepest 
reverence. To him it was truly the Word of God. It was 
a feeling which the Andover professors of his day enter- 
tained to a remarkable degree, and with which they inspired 
the students. It was a feeling derived from his very earliest 
training. No objections or difficulties raised by scientific 
men ever shook his confidence in the Scriptures ; he was ready 
to reject at once all scientific speculations that conflicted 
with what he kneio to be true. Perhaps he was too ready 
ta scout at scientific theories, and had too little consideration 
for honest doubt ; but to him skepticism was not merely un- 
known, it was simply unintelligible. He probably never had 
an hour of doubt of the Bible in all his life. To him it was 
like the sun in the heavens, as great and as indubitable. 



DOCTOR TODD AS A PREACHER. 443 

He was accustomed to read and study the Scriptures a 
great deal, but was always more interested in exploring 
their thought than in critically examining their language. 
He read them in the original very little, though he made a 
practice of examining his texts carefully before writing on 
them, and the commentaries that he used and recommended 
were those which paid more attention to the matter than the 
language of the Sacred Writings. " For a practical thing, 
Henry is the best, far the best, that I have seen. But Poole's 
'Synopsis' is the great gun, after all. Henry is excellent in 
his place, but Poole has great ubiquity. The Germans are 
cold, carving critics ; Poole is a collector of all the shrewd 
heads that ever wrote on the Bible; Doddridge is flat in his 
paraphrasing, but pious in his improvement and judicious in 
his notes; Henry is rich, jewels in dirt, and jewels in minia- 
ture, truly pious, and does your own heart good to read 
him ; and Scott is the most dull of all horned cattle. I have 
tried to sell mine, but no one will buy; so shall pile it up 
for posterity." So high did Henry stand in his estimation, 
that in the earliest part of his ministry he frequently "rode 
eight miles to spend an hour with. the book;" and, in the lat- 
ter part of his life, testified in an equally striking manner 
that his opinion of it had not changed. "In the year 1858 
I wrote and published 'Lectures to Children, Second Series.' 
Thomas Nelson & Sons, of Edinburgh, Scotland, immediately 
republished the little book, and as a token of their appre- 
ciation sent me a present in money. With that money, as a 
kind of memento of the gift, and of my estimation of Mat- 
thew Henry's commentary, and of my love for my children, 
I have devoted it to the purchase of a set of Henry for each 
of my daughters, and I hereby express my earnest desire 
that they will read a portion of it daily." For German com- 
mentaries, though he bought and read many of them, he al- 
ways expressed the utmost contempt. Of one of them he 
writes: "It is a labored effort upon words, and can be of no 
use an inch farther than it aids in reaching the sense of the 
Scriptures. I love to see accuracy and discrimination ; but 
to exhaust the resources of a great and immortal mind upon 
the niceties and shades of a word seems to me like gather- 
ing the forces of a world to pick up a straw." 

Of Scripture characters there were two whom he especial- 



444 JOHN TODD. 

ly admired, and who exerted a great influence upon his own 
thoughts and feelings — David and Paul. The former at- 
tracted him by his poetry and devotion and truth to human 
experience ; the latter, by the breadth and profundity of his 
thought; and both, by their attitude toward Christ. David 
was his master in the study of human nature — Paul, in the 
study of the divine; and few were the sermons in which he 
did not refer to the one or the other of these masters in 
Israel in terms of admiration. 

Of other masters of religious thought and ministry there 
were two especially who exerted an influence upon his char- 
acter and thought and style — Jonathan Edwards and 
Thomas Chalmers. 

The works of Edwards were among the first that he stud- 
ied, and it was from these, and from the "Assembly's Cate- 
chism," which he learned in childhood, that he drew the ma- 
terial for his theological system. At the Edwards gather- 
ing in Stockbridge, he expressed his appreciation of Edwards 
thus : " When a young student, I found a woman among the 
fevers of the rice -swamps of South Carolina who amazed 
and confounded me by her knowledge of theology. She 
was so far above me that I felt myself to be nothing. The 
secret was, that she had for years lived upon the works of 
Jonathan Edwards. In the revival in Yale College in 1820, 
under the teachings of Asahel Nettleton, after many wres- 
tlings of the spirit and intellect, I deliberately adopted the 
theology of this master in Israel, and have as yet never 
grown great enough, or wise enough, to change. A little 
later, down on Cape Cod, I met an old deacon who, for pro- 
found and accurate theology, might have been a theological 
professor, and before whom I fairly stood in awe. He, too, 
for years had lived and grown on a set of Edwards's works. 
Afterward, I had a parishioner who had read 'Edwards on 
the Affections' through six times, and he was a giant in the- 
ology. Afterward I married a wife, and it was years before 
I found out w T hat made her so much my superior; but when 
I discovered that she belonged to the Edwards family, and 
that she had their blood in her veins, I gave up the contest, 
and have admitted all that she demanded ever since. When 
called to the pastorate of an infant church in Northampton, 
I found that most of my flock were descendants of those 



DOCTOR TODD AS A PREACHER. 445 

who had been Mr. Edwards's fast friends through all his 
troubles there ; and I had the honor to propose to them, and 
see them cheerfully assent, that we should call the church 
'The Edwards Church' — a perpetual memorial of Edwards. 
The council which had organized the church objected to the 
name, and questioned the wisdom of it, till I finally had to 
tell them that we submitted our creed and covenant for 
their action, but the name of the church was our own, and 
that we did not submit. And when I add that I gave the 
name of Edwards to a son now in the ministry, I think I 
have established my claim to be among those who admire 
the great character of Edwards, and to sit among those who 

weave garlands to lay upon his tomb this day We 

hardly know which most to admire and wonder over in the 
ministry of Edwards — his original and luminous investiga- 
tions, his weighty sermons and powerful preaching, his great 
and permanent contributions to human thought and elucida- 
tion of divine truth, his meekness and gentleness under an 
ordeal that few could endure, his power in directing and 
controlling the churches when heaving with excitement, and 
his bringing them back to Scriptural views, or in the com- 
bined greatness, simplicity, and strength of character by 
which he still walks the earth, and which will cause his foot- 
steps to echo on the shores of time till Truth will no longer 
need to contend with Error, because her victory is complete 
and her triumph is eternal." 

But the teacher at whose feet Mr. Todd most delighted to 
sit, and by whom he was most influenced, was Doctor Chal- 
mers. On receiving the tidings of his death, he wrote and 
preached one of his ablest and most characteristic sermons, 
in which he said, "Perhaps there never could be minds 
more unlike than that of Chalmers and that of your humble 
pastor ; and yet I have never met the uninspired character 
which I have so much admired, or which has had so great 
an influence upon me." That there was unlikeness must be 
admitted ; and yet it was unquestionably a certain likeness 
which drew the pupil toward the teacher; and it was un- 
doubtedly increased, without any conscious imitation, by 
their communion. In his preaching Chalmers aimed not so 
much to show the excellence of virtue and the evil of vice, 
and to induce reformation, as first of all to reach the hearts 



446 JOHN TODD. 

and consciences of his hearers by setting forth the aliena- 
tion of the heart from God, and the offers of grace through 
Jesus Christ; in his course of thought he endeavored to lift 
his audience into higher and broader regions; in his style 
he employed, instead of the simple and severe logic of 
Edwards, language that was amplified and beautified by a 
soaring imagination ; in his parochial duties he was practi- 
cal, laborious, and systematic ; " in manners, habits, and feel- 
ings he was a child ;" in his work " he came nearer task- 
ing all his powers of mind, and living up to his capacities, 
than most men." These are the points especially noticed in 
the sermon referred to, and these are the very points most 
marked in the preacher's own character and ministry. " Is 
there," he asks, " a congregation in the world that will 
not sometimes receive illustrations of truth which he has 
wrought out ? Is there one mind here to-day that has not, 
however unconscious of it, been enlightened by the light 
which he has poured abroad?" It is certain that while he 
was too original and strong and proud to imitate or ape 
any man, he was peculiarly fitted to receive, and did receive 
and manifest in his whole character and ministry, the influ- 
ence, more than of any other man, of Thomas Chalmers. It 
was by such teachers that he was formed as a preacher. 

It was his original intention to preach much of the time 
without notes. " I intend to preach extemporaneously half 
of the time after I am settled, and half written sermons. I 
am persuaded that no man can be really eloquent very fre- 
quently who is wholly confined to notes." For some years 
this resolution was faithfully kept — in part, of necessity — 
and not without satisfactory results. "I preach extempore 
in the pulpit about one half of the time, and these sermons 
do by far the most good." But gradually a practical diffi- 
culty arose. "I have been applying myself more closely to 
study than usual of late, and I find it brings me back to my 
old feelings : I can not speak extempore when I study hard. 
The reason I can not assign ; the fact I am sure of." As he 
was determined not to abandon study, and become an empty- 
headed, flashy speaker, he was naturally led to write out his 
sermons more and more, till in the last part of his ministry 
he seldom spoke from the pulpit without at least very full 
notes. 



DOCTOR TODD AS A PREACHER. 447 

His habit in writing was, first, to select a text and map 
out a train of thought upon it. This was done, generally, 
not in his study, but in his walks or rides, or in sleepless 
hours, or whenever his mind met a suggestion, or fell into a 
constructive mood. The next step was to trace the skeleton 
on paper, as quickly and as fully as possible. "A few nights 
since, as I was watching over my sick child, the text, 'As for 
God, his way is perfect,' came into my mind with great force, 
and, taking my pencil, I marked out the particular train of 
thought which I am about to present to you." 

In writing out the sermon, he did not bind himself to 
any regular hours, though' he usually wrote in the forenoon, 
when he was freshest and strongest; nor did he have to 
wait for inspiration ; he seemed to have the power of com- 
manding the faculty of composition at pleasure. While 
writing, he sat in a low rocking-chair, so that his eyes were 
near the desk, his coat off, and his shirt-cuffs rolled back, his 
collar loosened or torn off, his glasses laid aside, and a warm 
soap-stone at his feet to counteract the tendency of the blood 
to the head. He always wrote with a quill, and he wrote 
without stopping for an instant. While engaged in writing, 
he was entirely absorbed in his work. One of his first pa- 
rishioners, referring to an occasion when several persons were 
in his study, writes : " While we were sewing, and chatting, 
and laughing in his study, all in the most hilarious spirits, 
he would sit at his table so absorbed in writing a sermon 
as to be unconscious of persons or conversation in the room. 
But when he reached a point, or was tired, he would in- 
stantly drop the pen, and strike off in conversation with 
wonderful buoyancy and humor. Then, feeling rested, he 
would as suddenly take up the pen, and fall back into ab- 
straction. He possessed concentration and elasticity of mind 
in far greater degree than any man I ever knew." These 
qualities remained with him through life. His study-door 
was seldom locked, and conversation, and even children's 
play, unless too boisterous, rarely disturbed him. In fact, 
his abstraction was so great that he became unconscious of 
what he was doing, and in pursuing a train of thought would 
fall into most ludicrous errors of spelling and grammar, and 
into a very imperfect and disjointed style. " I strike only for 
the thought, write with great rapidity, and have no time to 



448 JOHN TODD. 

examine the wheelbarrow in which I trundle my ideas and 
impressions." Most of his errors he would detect as quickly 
and laugh at as heartily as any one, on reading over what 
he had written ; but, unfortunately, it was not always so easy 
to correct his sentences as to detect their faults, without 
wholly reconstructing them ; and as he cared but little for 
rhetorical finish, provided he was understood, he allowed his 
works to remain full of lingual errors, for the enjoyment of 
critics who strain at gnats and swallow camels. After writ- 
ing for an hour or so, he would drop his pen, and spring- up 
and stretch himself, and walk up and down the room, or 
busy himself with his tools or traps, singing meantime, in a 
not unmelodious but perfectly uncultivated voice, some stave 
of a tune that ear never heard and it never entered the 
heart of man to conceive before. In later years he often 
made a flying visit down to "Mary's room," and exchanged 
a few words and laughs with the suffering prisoner there, 
and those who were with her. After such an interval of a 
few moments, he would return to his desk, and in a moment 
be as rapidly at work as ever. Dinner seldom came before 
the sheets of at least half a sermon lay scattered on the floor. 
On Sunday morning he invariably shut himself up in his 
study with his sermons, and we would hear him for an hour 
or more, reading over in a loud voice, and familiarizing him- 
self with, what he was about to preach. His appearance in 
the pulpit was so striking that few who have seen it will 
need any description to recall it vividly to their memory. 
In the prime of life he was tall and straight, and finely pro- 
portioned, and wore a close-fitting dress-coat. In later years 
he was a little bent by infirmity, and preferred a frock-coat, 
buttoned up in military style. In cool weather he often 
wore an immense broadcloth cloak, which had a great velvet 
collar and reached quite to his heels. It was a garment pe- 
culiar to himself, but, as he sometimes said, " Our family love 
to be odd ;" and it certainly invested him with a great dig- 
nity. Around his neck was wound in many folds a large 
white cravat, which, with its stiff standing- collar, allowed 
his head but little movement. It was not till the very last 
years of life that he discarded this relic of antiquity, and 
adopted the bent collar and black cravat — to the regret of 
many of his people, but to his own unspeakable relief. Held 



DOCTOR TODD AS A PREACHER. 449 

in this linen vise rose a singularly square-cornered but noble- 
looking head. His face was dark, and its features large and 
coarse; thick lips; an aquiline nose ; dark, shaggy eyebrows, 
from under which a pair of keen but good-humored blue eyes 
flashed through gold spectacles ; a square forehead, furrowed 
deep like the cheeks ; and above, a crop of short, iron-gray 
hair, brushed back from the temples and perfectly erect on 
the top, except where one last brush had swept over a part 
of it, as when a wind first touches a wheat-field — hair ap- 
parently stiff" and bristling, but really fine and soft as silk. 
He was perfectly aware of his lack of beauty, and used often 
to joke about it. "As to the daguerreotypes for which you 
asked, I have not been able to procure any fit to be seen. I 
have had nine different ones taken, and these that I send are 
wholly unfit; but I see no prospect of doing better. There 
are two facts to be remembered ; first, that I am very hard 
to take ; and, second, that I am so horribly homely that no 
one seems willing to own the picture as being accurate." 
Again: "I had my daguerreotype taken in New York; and 
it is so awfully correct that it frightens me to think of it." 
It was a favorite joke of his, especially when he met per- 
sons who seemed to stand in great awe of him, to ask, with 
the utmost solemnity of voice and countenance, but with a 
twinkle of the eye, whether they ever saw so handsome a 
man in their lives. His face was unmistakably homely, but 
there was an impressive grandeur in it, and when it was 
lighted up with enthusiasm or humor its homeliness was for- 
gotten. His voice, when he began to speak, was loud and 
strong, not altogether musical, and yet not harsh, and often 
tremulous with feeling. Of action he had very little, until 
he became interested in his sermon, and even then his gest- 
ures were few in number, though often repeated. To some 
he seems to have given an impression that he was " rough," 
" shaggy," " uncouth," a kind of " bear." There was nothing 
of this kind in his appearance to those who observed him 
more critically; he was simply a plain, somewhat original, 
strong man. 

In his prayers, which were seldom long, he seemed to feel 
and to impart to others a very solemn sense of the greatness 
of God and the sinfulness of men, and was fond of quoting 
those Scriptures which speak of the divine attributes, and 



450 JOHN TODD. 

express humility, penitence, and trust. As he proceeded, he 
seemed to remember all the wants of his people ; and if there 
were any peculiar cases of need, or any peculiar circum- 
stances in the occasion, he never failed to refer to them in a 
perfectly natural but beautiful way. His prayers, like every 
thing else that he uttered, were clothed with beauty by a 
chastened imagination which continually sought poetical ex- 
pression. In reading the hymns, he did not always give the 
most artistic tones, but he showed a deep feeling of their 
sentiments; and he always maintained the curious practice 
of first announcing the hymn, then reading it through, then 
announcing it again, and finally reading the first two lines 
of the first verse once more — precisely as the hymn was 
read in old times, when it was "deaconed," or "lined out," 
for those who had no books. In his sermon lay his chief 
power. 

If it is asked what were the characteristics of that preach- 
ing which produced so great effects, and held and interested 
for thirty years a large and heterogeneous and difficult con- 
gregation, it is easy to point out some of them. 

1. He employed very plain and simple language, loved 
the Saxon, abhorred uncommon words, made frequent use 
of colloquial terms, almost always said don't, can't, and 
shcfn'ti and so made himself intelligible to all his hearers. 

2. He dealt very little in scientific theology, not at all 
in metaphysical speculation, but almost wholly in what he 
called thought, which is the natural food of mind, and can 
be more or less appropriated by every mind. 

3. He made great use of illustration and comparison. His 
wide reading, his large experience, his retentive memory, 
his powerful imagination, all the treasures of his mind, were 
ransacked for images and illustrations with which to ex- 
plain and enforce his thoughts ; and this, while it made his 
sermons interesting to all, brought them still more within 
the comprehension of the simplest. "I find that one sim- 
ple thought, clearly and richly illustrated, and feelingly en- 
forced, makes the best sermon. Illustration is every thing. 
It is daylight, it is argument, it is application, it is every 
thing, if properly managed." It has been said that logic 
was his weak point ; and this, strictly speaking, is true. He 
did not naturally think in syllogisms, and he was not trained 



DOCTOR TODD AS A PREACHER. 451 

to use such weapons. Hence, in severe reasoning he was lia- 
ble to fail. But it would be a great mistake to suppose that 
lie was incapable of powerfully reasoning and convincing. 
Argument in his mind naturally took the form of illustra- 
tion and analogy, and in speaking to common minds he 
threw it into that form on principle. Where some would 
have laid down premises and laboriously drawn a conclu- 
sion, he would tell a story. Where others would refute an 
error with a solemn array of arguments, he would show its 
absurdity by a comparison. Such reasoning is sometimes 
dangerous, and liable to abuse ; but in such hands as his, and 
with the average mind, it is terribly effective — far more so 
than pure logic. 

4. His preaching was always grave, and almost always 
solemn. The humor and wit which so enriched his conver- 
sation and sparkled in his platform speeches never appeared 
in the pulpit. What he thus lost in attractiveness as a 
preacher he undoubtedly more than gained in spiritual pow- 
er. "I have found, by narrowly watching my preaching, 
that the two great points are gravity and interest. In at- 
tending to the former, I am in danger of becoming heavy 
and tedious ; to the latter, of losing solemnity. It is a prop- 
er union of these two qualities that constitutes a good 
preacher." 

5. He seldom inculcated specific duties, or denounced par- 
ticular sins. His aim was to purify the fountain of human 
action, by producing conviction of sinfulness, and holding up 
Christ as the necessary and only Saviour. He dealt, for the 
most part, in great general principles of universal applica- 
tion and interest. He was especially careful to make Christ, 
of whom his views were remarkably exalted, the beginning 
and centre and end of all his preaching. 

6. He had a strong common-sense, and a remarkable knowl- 
edge of the human heart and of human experience, which 
was not merely the result of close observation, but appar- 
ently a peculiar gift of nature, for he had it from the first. 
Hence he was able to speak to the feelings and consciousness 
of all kinds of men. He never rejected a figure »or illustra- 
tion or thought because it was simple or homely, if there 
was any thing in it which appealed to human experience. 
And it was this, in part, that made him equally acceptable 



452 JOHN TODD. 

to all classes of minds and all degrees of culture, that he 
spoke to human nature, which in all stations and circum- 
stances, and under all disguises, is essentially the same. 
Sometimes he made the very simplicity and homeliness of 
an illustration a source of power. A minister once heard 
him give out for his text one of those magnificent verses in 
Revelation, in which the universe is represented as break- 
ing forth into hallelujahs, and wondered to himself what be- 
ginning the preacher could find which would at all corre- 
spond with the grandeur of his theme. He said afterward 
that nothing could have been so impressive to him as the 
sentence with which the preacher, abandoning all attempt 
to keep up the strain of the text, simply and quietly began, 
"A good child loves his home." 

7. One of his strongest points was his power of pathos. 
His own nature was one of deep tenderness, a little prone to 
indulgence in melancholy, and the passions through which 
runs a vein of sorrow ; and this tendency was undoubtedly 
greatly increased by the loneliness and friendlessness and 
troubles of his early life. He rather liked to feel bad ; and 
he enjoyed making others feel bad ; and, being sensitive 
himself, he knew just where the fountains of tears lay. This 
gave him deep pathos, which he used at times with great 
effect. He would write occasionally most harrowing let- 
ters; and many of his published articles, especially those 
which he wrote when a lonely student, can hardly be read 
without tears. In his sermons he made frequent use of this 
power, and on every occasion when there were touching cir- 
cumstances to refer to, there was no one who could so skill- 
fully employ them to work upon the sensibilities of his hear- 
ers. Now, people generally like to have their sensibilities 
stirred. There is pleasure, if not piety, in tears; and this 
pathos gave its possessor great power. 

8. Another striking quality of his preaching was its en- 
thusiasm. It was this in a great degree which gave him 
his influence over the young and progressive, and kept the 
galleries of his church crowded with young men, when he 
himself was an old man. In his feelings he was never old, 
but in ardor and hopefulness and sympathy with all that 
was bright and active and enthusiastic, he was abreast with 
any of his hearers. 



DOCTOR TODD AS A PREACHER. 453 

9. But his greatest gift, after all, was his imagination. 
With this he clothed his thoughts in an endless variety of 
costumes, and arrayed the plainest and most common ideas 
in robes of beauty. It was this which gave his preaching- 
its freshness and charm even in old age. Many years ago 
a book was published called "The Women of the Old and 
New Testaments," each female character being assigned to 
the descriptive pen of some eminent preacher, and to the 
graver of some skillful artist. To Doctor Todd was as- 
signed poor Zipporah, and from the few Scripture references 
to her he contrived to call forth a portrait second to none. 
In his early ministry he allowed his imagination to run 
somewhat wild; in his later years he kept it under restraint, 
and so added to its power. He was once asked why he did 
not repeat some of his earlier sermons ; and his reply was, 
that he could not conscientiously do it; that in those ser- 
mons he had allowed the flowers with their profusion to 
bury up the truth, instead of merely illustrating and en- 
forcing it. 

It was from this power of imagination that he derived a 
dramatic power, uncultured indeed, but sometimes very ef- 
fective. In the exercise of this faculty his Whole voice and 
action sympathized instinctively with the spirit of the pas- 
sage which he was delivering, to an extent that kept his au- 
dience spell-bound, and showed no mean capability of dra- 
matic culture. This account of his preaching can hardly 
close better than with extracts from two of his most power- 
ful sermons, in which his imaginative and dramatic faculties 
are most effectively employed. . 

The first is the close of a' sermon on the text, " I thank 
thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast 
hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast re- 
vealed them unto babes : even so, Father ; for so it seemed 
good in thy sight." 

" Suppose you are standing in a broad plain. In the very 
centre of the plain there rises up a great mountain, lifting 
itself up to a height that the eye can not reach. All around 
the foot of that mountain are silver streams of water break- 
ing out, cool, pure, and sparkling, and flowers of every hue 
and form are sown in the richest profusion. On the sides of 
that mountain are deep, lofty forests, through which gleam 



454 JOHN TODD. 

such flashes of light as come from silver and gold and pre- 
cious stones. Above these forests there hang clouds that 
grow thicker and deeper and darker, as you look up toward 
the summit. 

" Now comes toward that mountain a strong, lithe man, 
full of intelligence, educated, talented, and wise. He is one 
of the strongest, noblest of the earth-born. * What mount- 
ain is this?' the man inquires; and a voice comes from yon- 
der cloud, ' This is the Mount of God ?' 

"'Ah,' says he, ' this is just what I want! I have long 
been wishing to see this mountain, to climb its heights, to 
explore its mysteries, to find out its wonders. I am strong, 
and can climb; I am wise, have a strong judgment, sound 
reasoning powers, and now it will be a pity if I can't climb 
this mountain, and find out all about God. I will enter 
that dark cloud, and discover his very dwelling-place! I 
will now understand God by searching him out !' 

" So the man begins to ascend. He leaves the flowers 
and the songs of the birds, and enters the thick forest. He 
comes to the edge of the cloud, and enters that. And now 
he begins to wander, to trip, and to fall. Sometimes he is 
lost in the forest, and doesn't know whether he is going up or 
down. Sometimes he moves along on the side of the mount- 
ain, thinking all the time that he is going up. He becomes 
entangled and bewildered and bruised by his frequent falls. 
At length he comes to a great rock with a fissure in it; but 
he says, 'I will not creep through that fissure; I will climb 
up over this rock, like a man.' He makes the attempt, and 
an unseen hand pushes him off, and he rolls down, down to 
the foot of the mountain, where he started; and then comes 
a voice, 'Who by searching can find out God? I dwell in 
the thick darkness. These things are hidden from the wise 
and prudent.' 

" Then comes the little child, with her hands full of flowers 
that she has gathered, and the sunshine of faith is beaming 
from her face. She passes by the wise man without seeing 
him; she is looking up the mountain. And now, planting 
her little feet on a rock, she looks up toward that thick 
cloud, and her silvery voice rings out, 'Dear Father, art 
thou here ?' 

"'lam here, my child ; what wilt thou ?' 



DOCTOR TODD AS A PREACHER. 455 

" ' O great Father, I have troubles, and my thoughts and 
heart make me afraid.' 

" ' Cast all thy cares upon me, little one ; for I care for 
thee. I will be thy everlasting Father.' 

" ' O Father, I can not see thee. Dear Jesus, art thou 
here too?' 

" ' Yes, little one, come unto me. Come to my arms, and 
they shall carry thee ; and to my bosom, and that shall shel- 
ter thee.' 

" ' But, Saviour, I am a sinful child.' 

"'Though your sins were scarlet, they shall be white as 
snow : though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.' 

"'Oh yes, I believe it. But, dear Jesus, they tell me I 
must die this very year, and then what ?' 

" ' I will never leave nor forsake thee ! Though thou walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death, thou shalt fear 
no evil, for I am with thee : my rod and my staff, they shall 
comfort thee. I will lead thee in the paths of righteousness 
for my name's sake. Little lamb, I will lead thee to the still 
waters, and make thee to lie down in the green pastures. I 
will restore thy soul. Canst thou trust me ?' 

"The child gazes upward, and the joy of hope and the 
power of faith come over her, and she has these great mys- 
teries revealed unto her. ' We thank thee, O Father, Lord 
of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things from 
the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes : 
even so, Father ; for so it seemed good in thy sight.' " 

The second extract is the close of a sermon on the text, 
"Beloved, it doth not yet appear what we shall be." 

" Suppose in a darkened room there are lying the remains 
of two men — immortal men — who lived and died under the 
full light of the Bible. They have both just breathed their 
last, and both are just about commencing that life and that 
journey which will never end. The one was a converted, 
prayerful man, who lived the life of a Christian ; the other 
always intended to become a Christian, but lived and died 
without any interest in Jesus Christ. They are both dead, 
and have finished their probation on earth. They died at 
the same moment. As soon as they have left the body, they 
are met by a conducting angel, and are told to stop a few 
minutes on the threshold of eternity and look off into the 



456 JOHN TODD. 

future. They both pause, and both look onward in the way 
they are to travel. 

"'What (lost thou see?' says the guardian angel to the 
Christian. 

" ' I see a land — oh, how beautiful ! Mountain and valley, 
lake and trees — I never saw any thing so fair ! I never saw 
green fields before! I never saw flowers before! I never 
saw a garden before ! and as my eye stretches off, it grows 
fairer and fairer. I can see farther and farther ! Oh, I can 
see off in the distance, so far that it would take ages and 
ages to reach there ; and, what is wonderful, the farther I 
look, the taller are the trees, the more brilliant the skies, the 
fairer the flowers ! Wonderful, wonderful glory !' 

" ' But why dost thou start ?' says the angel. 

"'I see — I see a form there — off ages hence; oh, how 
large, how fair, how beautiful ! What an angel that must 
be ! Oh, tell me whose is that form — say, angel, whose ?' 

"But the angel is gone. He is now standing by the side 
of the other soul — the unconverted man. 

"'What seest thou?' 

" ' Oh,' says he, * I am looking off over those dreary, bar- 
ren, parched fields, over those burning mountains, over those 
rivers like ink, over those dark, dark openings that yawn 
like caverns in the far distance ! Alas ! there is not a green 
spot in all the vision, not a single flower in all the landscape, 
not a star in all the darkened heavens, not a resting-place 
for the foot in all the journey ! And the farther I look — 
and I can see farther than I can travel in ages — and the far- 
ther I look, the more dreary it becomes, the more awful and 
gloomy the openings. Oh ! oh !' 

"'Why dost thou start back?' says the angel. 

" ' Oh, I see in the far distance a most horrid creature ! 
What a form ! What self-made scars does he bear ! What 
a mouth of blasphemy ! What a terrible sinner ! What a 
horrid creature ! O angel, can a created being ever become 
like him ?' 

" ' Watch and see,' says the angel. 

"Again the angel stands by the side of the Christian. 

" ' Hast thou found out who that being is ?' says the 
angel. 

" 'No, no; but oh, how beautiful his garments ! how elas- 



DOCTOR TODD AS A PRE A CHER. 457 

tic his step! how sweet his songs ! How glorious a being! 
how tall ! how wonderful ! Oh that I could see his face !' 

" ' There, now, he is about to withdraw the veil; dost thou 
know him?' 

"'0 angel, it is — it is myself! myself! Ten thousand 
ages hence I shall be that being ! It is, oh, it is — myself!' 

" ' Hast thou learned who that horrid creature is ?' says 
the angel to the sinner. 

" ' No, oh no ! I have watched him, and have wanted him 
to withdraw that veil, and yet have shuddered to have him! 
I don't know why.' 

" ' There, now, he is about to withdraw it.' 

"'Myself! myself! myself! O angel, take away the vis- 
ion ! I shall sink under it ! Ages, ages hence, I shall be like 
him, nay, shall be him, shall I ? I'm coming to that, am I ? I 
must tread over that dreary region, I must climb over those 
burning mountains, I must stalk on, and on, and on, growing 
great, awful, hideous in sin, till I become that monster of 
guilt ! What an eye ! what a forehead ! what a being ! and 
that's me ! thatfs me ! that's me !' 

"Alas ! alas ! it doth not yet appear what we shall be !" 

30 



458 JOHN TODD. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

DOCTOR TODD AS AN AUTHOR. 

How he came to Write.— The Poor-house.— Little Johnny.— The Bellows.— 
The only One who Printed them. — Lectures to Children. — How .to put 
Babies to Sleep.— Simple Sketches.— Student's Manual.— A Relic of Frank- 
lin.— An Accident.— "Index Rerum."— "Sabbath School Teacher."— A 
Public Reception.— "Truth made Simple."— The French Chamber-maid. 
—Little Mary.— The King's Ring.— Power over Children.— Stories on the 
Catechism.— The Serpent in the Dove's Nest.— Woman's Rights.— The 
Sunset Land. — Scraps of Time.— Wrote to do Good.— No Money.— A 
great Life-work. 

The most important thing that Mr. Todd did in North- 
ampton was, to begin writing books. He seems to have 
entertained from the first an expectation of being at soipe 
time an author; and, indeed, from the middle of his college 
course, had been in the habit of contributing occasional ar- 
ticles to various magazines ; but he had uniformly declined 
undertaking any thing more important, from a feeling that 
he was not yet sufficiently prepared to write for the public. 
The immediate occasion of his taking up the pen of author- 
ship was the condition of his poor deranged mother. At her 
husband's death, she was taken, with all her children, by his 
brother, Doctor Jonathan Todd, to his home, and while the 
children found, one after another, places elsewhere, here she 
continued, kindly and tenderly treated, till his death in 1820. 
About this time her son Jonathan married, and, having a 
home of his own, took her to it. The change, however, or 
something else, produced an unfavorable effect upon the 
poor woman's ruined mind, and she became violent. The 
bride found it unpleasant, and not altogether safe, to live 
with her, and, finally, after having been knocked flat upon 
the floor, declared very properly that she could endure it no 
longer. But there was not one in the family who was able 
to pay for her separate maintenance ; and so, after several 
changes, the poor helpless woman was thrown upon the town, 
and became an inmate of the poor-house. From this posi- 
tion her youngest son determined to remove her as soon as 



DOCTOR TODD AS AN AUTHOR. 459 

possible ; and therefore, the moment that he found himself 
settled and in receipt of a small but regular income, he took 
his mother from the care of the town, and found a comfort- 
able home for her in a private family; and from that time 
forward to the day of her death, a period of seventeen years, 
he took sole care of her. The other sons, though unable 
to share the burden, appreciated the act, and were always 
grateful to him for it. 

Restored to a quiet and comfortable home, the poor old 
woman's mental excitement subsided. Although stern and 
severe in her manner, so that to the children of the neigh- 
borhood " Granny Todd," as they called her, was a person 
to be regarded with awe, she was no longer dangerous. Al- 
ways disinclined to conversation, she often had periods of 
deep melancholy, and would sometimes wander away and 
sit for hours on the rocks, gazing vacantly off upon the 
Sound. She remembered little that had happened since her 
Jiusband's death, and seemed to be continually brooding 
over, and sometimes muttering about, scenes long gone by. 
Knitting w T as her only occupation, and she knit many pairs 
of socks for her dutiful son ; but, even while making them of 
the right size for a man, she always spoke of him as a small 
boy, and called him "Little Johnny." Many amusing sto- 
ries are told of her. One evening the farmer with whom she 
lived came in with one or two others and sat down to sup- 
per, and, as they all happened to have keen appetites, the 
provisions disappeared rapidly. Mrs. Todd watched them 
a while, and then caught up the bellows and made for the 
door, muttering, "Well! I'll try to save these — I don't see 
that there will be any thing else left !" There is another 
story which Doctor Todd used to tell at his own expense 
with great enjoyment. He was calling on his mother with 
his brother-in-law, Rev. Mr. Shepard, pastor of the place, 
and in the course of the conversation told an amusing but 
somewhat extravagant story. As they were all laughing, 
Mr. Shepard slyly remarked to the company, "You know 
the Todds always did tell lies." "Yes," spoke up the old 
lady, who hitherto had remained a silent and solemn list- 
ener, " yes, but none of them but John ever printed them." 

It was always esteemed by Mr. Todd one of the privileges 
of his life that he was pernlitted thus to care for his mother; 



460 JOHN TODD. 

and certainly, if ever filial piety was rewarded, it was in 
this case, not only with the promised length of days, but 
even pecuniarily, and much more in the results of author- 
ship; for it was to meet the increasing expenses of this 
mother and of his own growing family that he first took up 
an author's pen. " Should you live to grow up to be a man, 
my boy, and live, as I hope you will, to do good long after 
my head rests in the grave, you will wonder why your fa- 
ther, with all his professional duties, should ever write books. 
Let me tell you. Far away from our house lives an aged 
widow. She has no children near her. She has no home. 
She has no money. She has been deprived of reason ever 
since I can remember. She does not even know her own 
children. That aged woman is your father's mother. For 
the last twelve years I have had the honor to provide for 
this afflicted woman, and, to do it, I have been obliged to use 
my pen. For this I have written books, and every cent of 
the proceeds has thus been devoted. Nothing else would 
have made me an author, nothing else would ever keep me 
one." 

His first book was one of his best, and has had as wide a 
circulation as any, and is still very popular. In a revival in 
his church, the children had been unusually interested ; and 
he had preached to them a short series of sermons, which 
seemed to produce a deep impression. These sermons were 
delivered extempore, and then written out, each immediate- 
ly after its delivery ; and the book thus produced was pub- 
lished under the title, " Lectures to Children." Several years 
afterward a second series was added to it. Multitudes have 
testified to the author that some of their earliest and deepest 
impressions were received from this book. In an address to 
the young people of Doctor Todd's congregation, a minister 
once said that Todd's " Lectures to Children " was the first 
book that he remembered to have received, and that he read 
in it at four years of age ; and that he was so fond of its 
stories that he used to prevail upon his mother to read them 
to him night after night when he was put to bed. Doctor 
Todd was soon on his feet, and, with a droll look, said, " I 
suppose that many of my sermons have put grown folks to 
sleep, but this is the first time I ever heard that my books 
were used in putting babies to sleep." The book has passed 



DOCTOR TODD AS AX AUTHOR. 461 

through an even greater number of editions in England than 
in this country. It has also been translated into French, 
German, Greek, Bulgarian, Tamil, Travancore, and several 
other languages; has been printed in raised letters for the 
blind, and is used as a school-book by the liberated slaves 
at Sierra Leone. It was originally dedicated to his first Gro- 
ton friend, William L. Chaplin ; " and though it can not be 
much to him that I place his name with mine on this hum- 
ble page, yet a friendship which has never known abate- 
ment, and to which I owe many of the sweetest recollections 
of my life, prompts me to do it." 

This venture having proved so successful, in the follow- 
ing year a friend gathered up the best of the articles which 
he had contributed, for the most part while in college, and 
published them under the name, " Simple Sketches." The 
articles are evidently the compositions of youth, but they 
are distinguished by a pathos w T hich from the first awakened 
great interest. This quality in them is due to the fact that 
they were written while the author was in very feeble health, 
and in circumstances of peculiar loneliness and hardship. 
Several of the articles give, in disguise, incidents in his own 
personal history ; and all of them, as almost every thing 
that the author ever w^rote, have this peculiarity, that they 
are not only interesting, but true. 

The same year appeared what was perhaps, on the whole, 
the most important of all his published works — the "Stu- 
dent's Manual." The first one benefited by it, probably, was 
the printer (since a missionary), who read it by catching a 
few lines from each sheet as the next went under the press. 
But it would be difficult to count how many after him have 
profited by it. For nearly forty years it has found a place 
in students' libraries, and to this day enjoys the singular dis- 
tinction of being the only standard authority in the field 
which it occupies. During his whole life the author was 
constantly receiving letters of thanks, from men in this and 
other lands, for the influence exerted upon them by this 
book. It has passed through a great many editions in En- 
gland, as well as this country, over one hundred and fifty 
thousand copies having been sold to young, men in London 
alone. Among the few remains of Sir John Franklin that 
were found far up in the polar regions, there was a leaf of 



462 JOHN TODD. 

the "Student's Manual," the only relic of a book. From 
the way in which the leaf was turned ..down, the following 
portion of a dialogue was prominent: "'Are you not afraid 
to die?' 'No.' 'No? Why does the uncertainty of an- 
other state give you no concern ?' ' Because God has said 
to me, " Fear not. When thou passest through the waters, I 
will be with thee ; and through the rivers, they shall not 
overflow thee."'" This leaf is preserved in the Museum 
of Greenwich Hospital, in England, among the relics of Sir 
John Franklin. When Doctor Todd was in Europe, he 
found that the " Student's Manual " had passed through over 
one hundred and fifty editions, and had been published in 
Welsh, French, and German; "and it would have done you 
good to see the young men who came around me, and said, 
' Sir, I owe most or all of what I am to your pen.' " 

"Nova Scotia, October 9th, 1870. 
"I am receiving much attention as the author of the 'Stu- 
dent's Manual.' I begin to think that that was the great 
work of my life. It seems to loom up above all the rest 
that I have done." 

To Rev. A. C. T . 



" Pittsfield, December 28th, 1857. 

"Good Beothee T , — You were very kind to write 

me the word you did. I have received many such letters, 
and every one that I receive makes me feel humbled and 
mortified, to think that the only good thing that I seem ever 
to have done was — an accident ! There are chapters in the 
' Student's Manual ' which I wrote in a day each ; and in the 
whole thing I had neither plan nor expectation. It was as 
if you should accidentally write a sermon that should live 
and go the world over. So, I suspect, it has been with most 
of the works of God's creatures. They knew not at the 
time what they were doing ; and I feel, the more I read bi- 
ography (the most profitable reading that I ever do), that 
men are mere puppets in the hand of God, to do when and 
what he pleases, very much as if they were moved as the 
showmen move their little men of pith. Alas ! how little do 
we, and with what motives ! Truly, with old Father Hallock, 
we may say, ' Put all my good deeds into one pile, and all my 
sins into another, and I should try to run away from both.' " 



DOCTOR TODD AS AN AUTHOR. 463 

Among the earliest publications of the author was a book 
called " Index Rerum." It is a blank book, with the pages 
lettered in a peculiar and ingenious manner, so that every 
thing written in it is self-indexed. It was designed as a 
kind of commonplace book, to receive receipts, extracts, an- 
ecdotes, or any thing worth preserving. The plan of the 
book was in the author's mind, and was talked of by him, 
even while he was a boy in Charlestown. Immense quan- 
tities of the book have been sold, though the author reaped 
no profit from it, as he had sold the copyright outright, at 
the start, for a trifling sum. 

In the first year of his ministry in Philadelphia appeared 
"Todd's Sabbath School Teacher." From the time when, a 
mere boy, he helped to organize the Sabbath-school in Doc- 
tor Morse's church in Charlestown, he had felt a deep inter- 
est in this at that time comparatively new kind of institu- 
tion. For two years, even while in Northampton, he had 
felt the need of a work of this kind, but had waited for some 
one else to prepare it. On going to Philadelphia, he found 
himself in circumstances peculiarly fitted to lead him into 
such a work. His church had begun in a Sabbath-school, 
and was specially devoted to its maintenance. It w r as called 
a model school, and strangers came even from across the At- 
lantic to visit it. The pastor was, therefore, naturally led to 
deliver a, series of addresses to his Sunday-school teachers, 
and these, published in book- form at the request of the 
school, are what constitute "Todd's Sabbath School Teach- 
er," which is, as an experienced Sunday-school superintend- 
ent has remarked, " in some important respects the best 
book for Sunday-school teachers ever prepared by anybody." 
In the course of the volume he hints at the danger of the 
Sunday-school's becoming an organization independent of, 
and even hostile to, the Church, a foreboding which was crit- 
icised and omitted in the edition printed by the London 
Sunday-school Union, as groundless. But the author did 
not write without thought and experience. The progress of 
the age has developed more danger in this direction than 
was once thought possible, and shown that the author un- 
derstood the system and its tendencies perfectly. It also 
shows how quickly he saw through men and things, and 
grasped " the situation ;" that in the very first year of his 



464 JOHN TODD. 

Philadelphia ministry he here detected, in the midst of splen- 
did success, the fatal germs in his church whose development 
eventually proved its ruin. To the end of his life the author 
was a firm friend of Sunday-schools, though he never per- 
sonally engaged in Sunday-school instruction, as he felt that 
he could not do it and preach too. When he was in Lon- 
don, there was a great public reception given to him by the 
friends of the system, and he explained to them its working 
in this country, and answered their questions, and excited 
great enthusiasm. In the last years of his life, he was in the 
habit of writing short stories, and reading them to his Sun- 
day-school at their monthly concerts. Many of his best 
pieces in his later works made their first appearance in this 
wav. The last that he wrote was, "The Last Jewel of the 
City." 

In 1839, he published a small volume called "Truth Made 
Simple." It is an attempt to bring the first principles of 
theology down to a child's understanding. It was not, 
therefore, in its nature of so popular a character as " Lect- 
ures to Children," which are more practical. But there are 
two things in it which have done immense good — the "Ad- 
dress to Mothers," and " Hafed's Dream." The latter beau- 
tiful and often-quoted piece "Hashed into his head one day 
as he walked in the streets of Philadelphia, he could not tell 
how ; but it came like a vision, and he wrote it off in a 
couple of hours." This little book was dedicated to his lit- 
tle boy, then only five years old. It has been translated 
into several languages. A small copy of it in French, enti- 
tled "Simple et Vrai," lies before the writer, which has in- 
teresting associations. When the author was in Paris, he 
saw a chamber-maid in his hotel reading a little book one 
day. He asked permission to see what she w r as reading, 
and found that it was this copy of one of his own little 
works, and at once bought it of her as a memento of his 
journey. 

" , February 7th. 

"My dear Friend Mr. Todd, — I have been reading that 
dear little book which you wrote for little children so many 
years ago; I mean Lectures to Children. I love it be- 
cause my dear father sit in one of the pews and he looked 
up and saw you in the pulpit and he heard you talk it all 



DOCTOR TODD AS AN AUTHOR. 465 

over to the children I guess that it done my Father a good 
deal of good and I guess that he remembered it for my 
-Mother says he was a christian and joined your church 
when he was a very young man in Northampton but he is 
now in heaven God took him there so long ago that I can 
not remember him but Mother says he loved me dearly and 
I hope that some day to see him there in the promised land 
I have got three dear little Brothers there too all with the 
Saviour, how happy they must be, they all went to heaven 
before they were as old as I am and I but nine years old. 
I know you will go to heaven you write such good books 
what a good man you must be I hope that I shall be so 
good as to go there too then I can see you there, but I 
should like to see you in this world but if I can not I wish 
you would send me the picture of your face. It is a cold 
day to-day I do not like to have it so cold because I can 
not go to school but God noes best. I have forgotten to tell 

you my Father's name it was do you remember 

him? I know that Mary is a name you love very much be- 
cause you told me so in one of your books. I hope you will 
not think I have done wrong to write to such a big man as a 
minister. I have got no more thoughts in my brain to-day 
so I will close 

" Your affectionate little girl 

"Mary." 

" Pittsfield, February 17th, 1863. 
"My dear Little Friend Mary, — Can you guess how 
much pleased I was on receiving your little letter? or how 
they all smiled. and cried 'Good! good!' when I read it to 
the family ? I receive many such letters from my young 
friends; and the very next mail brought me one — a very nice 
letter it was — from a black boy in Africa, to thank me for 
my books, which he found even there. And when Sir John 
Franklin's remains, and the things that he and his poor men 
had, were found away up among the icebergs of the North, 
a single leaf— and that the most religious leaf — of one of my 
books was found with them. May it not be that some poor 
fellow read it among the very last things he did before his 
eyes were closed in death ? Among the few things that I 
look back upon with comfort is the fact that I hope some 
young hearts have been made better by my pen. 



466 JOHN TODD. 

" So your father knew me, and heard me, and sat with me 
at the table of Christ? That father has left his little Mary 
something better than a houseful of silver and gold ; he 
lias left her his example, the example of loving Christ early 
in life ; and the prayers which he offered for his child — those 
prayers cover her head every day, and perhaps bring angels 
to keep her from temptation and sin. And if he should be 
told in heaven that his little girl had become a Christian, 
would not his spirit rejoice far more than to hear that she 
had become a queen ? 

"Now let me tell you a curious thing. When you were a 
very little girl — in fact, a mere babe — there came a great king 
into your house. He saw you and smiled on you. He put 
a beautiful little ring on your finger, and said, ' Now, if this 
little girl Mary shall grow up, and be a good child, and be 
worthy of it, I will, some day, come again and make her a 
queen. And I put this ring on her finger as a pledge that 
I will keep my promise. Let her always wear it, and let 
her look at it every day, and let her feel what she is to be- 
come if she is worthy.' 

"The kinoj then left the house, and there is the rin<r on 
little Mary's finger. Can't you see it? Don't you under- 
stand me ? Baptism is the ring ! Your parents took the 
ring and put it on you, and now you are a devoted thing ; 
and the Bible says, * Every devoted thing shall be holy.' So, 
dear Mary, you must be holy unto the Lord ; for, by your 
baptism, you are devoted unto the Lord as long as you live. 

"You tell me that you have three little brothers who 
have gone to be with Christ. Oh ! I don't know how many 
funerals of little children I have attended; they would make 
a great congregation. And, when I see a beautiful child 
lying in the coffin, I think how the poor mother watched 
and prayed over the little one, till at last an unseen hand 
lifted the latch and opened the door softly, and unseen arms 
lifted up the child, as his arms did when the blessed Re- 
deemer was on earth ; and then that same hand sprinkled 
the dew of love and submission on the mother's heart, so 
that she could calmly commit the jewel of her heart to the 
everlasting Saviour, and say, 'Thy will be done !' You seem 
to think, my dear child, that I must be good, because I write 
good books. No; no such thing. Writing good books or 



DOCTOR TODD AS AN AUTHOR. 467 

any thing else doesn't make us good. But believing on 
Christ — receiving the kingdom of God as a little child, lov- 
ing and obeying Jesus — that makes us good. 

" Very likely, little Mary, you will never see me in this 
world. If you should, I don't think you would call me 
handsome. But if you should not see me here, I pray that 
we may meet in heaven, where we shall all be handsome — 
if we may go there — because we shall see Jesus as he is, and 
shall become like him. 

"I inclose my likeness, but it is a very poor one. Have I 
not written a long letter to a little girl whom I never saw ? 
"Your affectionate friend, Jno. Todd." 

His success in addressing children was very remarkable; 
and yet he always shrunk from the task. " If I have any 
good judgment on the subject, it has led me to attempt to 
preach to children as seldom as possible. It is, in my esti- 
mation, the most difficult of all pulpit preparations and per- 
formances. I have heard of men who attempted to preach 
to children every Sabbath the year round. I may be mis- 
taken, but I don't believe the man is living who can long 
sustain himself in this attempt. I would, at all hazards, 
rather undertake to preach to the same number of doctors 
of divinity, and that is saying the thing very strongly." 
His success was owing partly to the simplicity of language 
Avhich he always used, partly to his imaginativeness, which 
led him to clothe all his thoughts with imagery, and to ex- 
plain and enforce them with illustrations, and partly to the 
childlikeness of his own nature, which led him instinctively 
to grasp truth as a child would. Doubtless, it was owing 
very much, also, to his great fondness for children. He had 
a great tenderness for them, and seldom went into any fam- 
ily without at once making friends with the " little ones," as 
he loved to call them. " When one of our daughters was 
four or five years old," writes a father, " he spent a night at 
our house. This child was naturally very timid, and partic- 
ularly shy of strangers, biit your father soon made friends 
with her, and she seemed completely fascinated with his 
ways, till, by the very tones of his voice, hcwould make her 
laugh or weep at will. He would say something in very 
grave, serious, mournful accents, till her lips would begin to 



468 JOHN TODD. 

quiver, and a tear to glisten in her eye, and she was ready- 
to burst out weeping ; and then he would suddenly change 
his tone and tactics, and in a moment she would be in a per- 
fect frolic. It showed his power over children. "No wonder 
he could write so well for them." One of the most touch- 
ing sights, on the day of his burial, was the gallery crowded 
with children, who filed slowly past the casket to take one 
more, now for the first time timid, glance at the face of one 
of their best friends, who was himself, in spirit, a little child. 

The later works of Mr. Todd were chiefly collections of 
fugitive pieces contributed originally to the religious news- 
papers, for several of which he wrote frequently. Only two 
or three of them require special notice. 

In 1847, he published "Stories on the Shorter Catechism," 
a series of stories, mostly founded on fact, designed to ex- 
plain by illustration the answers in the "Assembly's Short- 
er Catechism." The work was never more than one quarter 
finished, owing partly to discouragements about publishing, 
and partly to the fact that its length seemed tedious in pros- 
pect. It is, however, greatly valued by the few who know 
or wish to know any thing about the catechism. 

In 1867, he published two little books, which for a time 
made quite a stir. The one is called "The Serpents in the 
Dove's Nest," and is a plain and forcible treatise upon cer- 
tain prevalent vices. The other is called " Woman's Rights," 
and is a presentation of his views upon that much-discussed 
subject. On both subjects he held to the unpopular side, 
and the two works, published at the same time, brought 
down upon him a double torrent of abuse, which it took a 
stout heart to endure with composure. Countless letters 
from all parts of the land poured in upon him, filled with in- 
vective and insult, and many of them with the vilest lan- 
guage. He burned these letters as fast as they came, but 
he used to remark that there was significance in the fact that, 
in general, the same people abused him for both works; and 
that,if it were possible to do it, he could in no way so effect- 
ually bring the "woman's movement" into condemnation 
as by publishing the letters which he received on the sub- 
ject from women. The first of these works secured for him 
the hearty sympathy and thanks of the medical profession. 
One of the most eminent in it wrote : " This noble step of 



DOCTOR TODD AS AN AUTHOR. 469 

yours will carry joy and courage to thousands of hearts in 
the medical profession ; and in their name, and in the name 
of science and humanity, allow me most sincerely to thank 
you. The influence of this little work will be incalculable. 
One of our physicians, a splendid fellow, just came in, and I 
handed him your book, which he has been perusing, occa- 
sionally exclaiming, 'My stars!' ' Well, well !' When he 
got through, he said, 'Well, that is tremendous! I didn't 
think so much moral courage could be found in the clerical 
profession ?' " The other work presents views respecting 
which there is more room for difference of opinion among 
Christian and conscientious people ; but it must be admitted 
that the author gave his opinions with as great good-nature 
as decision and courage. The work was, of course, attacked 
from all sides; and "Gail Hamilton" wrote a whole book in 
reply to it, which was at once smart and spiteful, witty and 
bitter. Doctor Todd's careless style of writing gave this op- 
ponent advantages which she was quick to see, and not too 
magnanimous to use ; and so, in the eyes of those who do 
not distinguish between faults of style and weaknesses of 
thought, the author was completely demolished. It is incor- 
rect, however, to say, as has been said, that he had a " contro- 
versy with Gail Hamilton," as he wrote without any thought 
of her, and never answered her rejoinder. The only refer- 
ence that he ever made to her attack was, " They have sent 
me Gail's book — a whole half of it is spent in cursing me ! 
It's rich, they say; I have not read it, nor do I intend to." 
He never did. 

In 1870, he published an account of California as he had 
seen it in the previous year, under the title " The Sunset 
Land." Its contents were originally a short series of lect- 
ures given to his own people on his return, and were not de- 
signed for publication ; but they excited so much interest 
that the author was induced to publish them. The subject 
was not a new one ; a great many letters and articles and 
volumes had been written upon it; it had been presented in 
almost every possible aspect; and it was no easy task to 
write another book upon it that should be at once fresh and 
valuable. The author succeeded, however, in doing this. 
The book has been pronounced by well-informed Califor- 
nians the best account of their State that has appeared, and 



470 JOHN TODD. 

has been much sought after by English readers. One pecul- 
iarity of it, and that which gives it its novelty and chief 
value, is the minuteness of its observation. The author no- 
ticed a thousand little things which attract small attention 
from the ordinary traveler, but which, in the aggregate, 
make the chief difference between one place and another. 
The following passage has been cited as an example of this : 
"Here the winds hurry and scurry and change often many 
times a day ; there they unchangingly blow in one direction 
for six months, and then the opposite for six months. Here 
the earth rests in winter; there they have no winter, and 
her rest is in the summer. Here we have storm and heat 
and cold ; there they have no storms or rain in summer, and 
only rain in winter. Here our trees shed their leaves ; there 
they wear their varnished covering the year round, while 
some of them, like the bronzed madrona, shed their bark an- 
nually, and keep on their bright, green, waxen leaves. Here 
the woodpecker goes to the old tree, and knocks, and wakes 
up the worm, and then pecks in and gets him; there the 
woodpecker bores a thousand holes in the great pine-tree, 
into each of which he thrusts an acorn, in which the miller 
deposits her egg, and which the woodpecker calls and takes, 
after it has become a good -sized worm. The blue jay is 
arrayed in a strange dress, and chatters in notes equally 
strange. The lark sings in sweeter notes, but they are all 
new. Here the owl lives in the hollow tree; there he bur- 
rows in the ground with the strange gray ground-squirrel, 
or in the hole of the rattlesnake, or in that of the prairie- 
dog. Here the elder is a bush ; there I have seen it a tree 
whose trunk is a foot in diameter. Here the lemon-verbena 
is a flower-pot plant ; there it is a bush nine feet high. Here 
the mustard -seed yields a small plant; there it is a tree 
often seventeen feet high. Here we have a few grape-vines 
in a grapery; there you will find five thousand acres in a 
single vineyard. Here you will see a single oleander beauti- 
fying a single parlor; there you will find a hundred clumps 
in blossom in a single yard, amidst what looks like a shower 
of roses. Here we make the Ethiopian calla bloom in the 
conservatory; there it blossoms in every grave-yard, and at 
the head of almost every grave. Here we have thick green 
turf on our soil; there they have no turf, and not a dande- 



DOCTOR TODD AS AN AUTHOR. 471 

lion, daughter of the turf, grows in all California. Here the 
sun paints the grass green ; there he turns it brown. Here 
you see the farmer carefully housing his hay and little patch 
of wheat ; there he cuts no hay, except to supply the cities, 
and reaps and threshes his wheat in the fields, and throws 
the bags clown to lie all summer, sure that neither rain nor 
dew will hurt it. Here you have scores of trees out of 
which you make your tools; there you have no tree out of 
which you can make a wagon-hub or spoke, a plow, harrow, 
an axe-helve, or a hoe-handle. Here every thing is small; 
there the trees and all the vegetable world are so large that 
you are tempted to doubt your own eyes." 

Great as was the work which Doctor Todd accomplished 
as an author, he always considered and made that work sub- 
ordinate to what he esteemed the main business of life — 
preaching the Gospel. He seldom allowed himself to write 
for the press in the forenoon ; this best part of the day, as 
he considered it, was sacredly devoted to preparation for 
the pulpit. Before ever beginning to publish at all, he 
wrote, " I expect to gain as much time for this object as 
possible, by saving scraps of time ;" and to this resolution he 
conscientiously adhered to the last. What he published 
was written piecemeal in brief leisure moments, or in spare 
hours or days: much of it was written early in the morning; 
for, though not habitually a very early riser, yet when he 
was writing a book he would steal from his hours of rest; 
and often, long after the family had retired and the house 
was still, his quill could be heard, working rapidly and cease- 
lessly, far into the night. 

So, too, the themes on which he wrote were, for the most 
part, in the line of his profession, suggested by his minis- 
terial experience, or at least conducive to the same end as 
that of his ministry — doing good. And so, too, the mode of 
treating his subjects, and his style, were designedly selected 
with the same great end in view. He wrote simply and en- 
tertainingly, for the masses, not because he could not write 
technically, but because he wished to do the most good. 
Though he wrote for money, as well as the good opinion of 
others, as all authors do, these were always incidental and 
subordinate objects. "I am aware that ambition is the be- 
setting sin of my family, and that I have my full share. At 



472 JOHN TODD. 

the same time, I would not be great, if to do it I must do 
harm, or be what is called neutral in my influence." 

Of money he made very little by his books, numerous and 
widely circulated as they were. Sometimes, pressed by 
poverty, or distrustful of success, he sold the copyright be- 
forehand for a trifle. Sometimes the sale of a book was not 
pushed with much energy by the publisher. Sometimes the 
author was defrauded by a dishonest publisher. And so it 
happened that the profits of the author were small, and, in 
the long care of his helpless mother and in the education of 
his great family, soon disappeared. 

The results, however, for which he chiefly wrote have been 
immense. His work as an author has probably been the 
great work of his life. Whether or not his writings have 
those qualities which will make them permanent and stand- 
ard works, and give them perennial popularity, time will 
show ; but should they perish with the author, that which 
they have already accomplished is a great life-work; and 
when the multitudes shall be gathered from every land and 
tongue whom his mind has taught and his character im- 
pressed, his will be a blessed and glorious reward. 



HIS RECREATIONS. 473 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

HIS RECREATIONS. 

Early Vacations. — The Adirondack^. — Two hundred Lakes. — Nothing but 
Deer. — Hunters' Slander. — Love of Nature. — Religion in the Forest. — 
The Sabbath. — Long Lake. — A Church in the Wilderness. — A starved 
Missionary. — Who Cares for the poor Settlers ? — One of his Deacons. 
— Hobbies. — Fishing -tackle. — Never did like Trout. — Shooting-irons. — 
Bees. — In the Attic. — Lazy Emblems. — The Temple.— A Hivite. — Buried 
Alive. — The Power of a Sting. — Hens. — Patent Inventions. — A Carica- 
ture. — A Peace-offering. — The Game-cock. — Gardening. — Conservatories. 
— Consider the Lilies. — The Killingworth Parson. — Remarks at the Com- 
munion - table. — The Farm. — Shade - trees. — Alderneys. — The Wherry. — 
The Launch. — The Thunder-storm. — The Workshop. — The Frying-pan. — 
An Apology. — A Relief.— A Weakness incident to Strength. — A little 
Child. 

From the very first of his ministry, Doctor Todd was in 
the habit of taking occasional vacations, compelled by sick- 
ness, if not voluntarily; but he had no special or regular 
mode of spending them. A tiresome journey, a trip with 
his family in his own carriage, a short stay on a farm or in 
the crowd at Saratoga, were his only recreations, from which 
he returned to his tasks little refreshed. It was not till he 
had been preaching for fifteen years, and the toils and anx- 
ieties of his Philadelphia life had almost broken him down, 
that, while attending a commencement at Burlington Col- 
lege, he was invited by two of the professors to join them in 
an excursion into the then unexplored forests of the Adiron- 
dacks. From that time he went regularly every summer, 
for more than twenty years, into these wilds, and spent from 
four to six weeks in hunting, fishing, resting, and enjoying 
the beautiful scenery. As it was impossible for him to main- 
tain any communication with the outside world, he heard 
nothing from his family or parish to worry him, and so could 
throw off all care: the hard work, plain fare, out-of-door 
life, and entire change of scene were just what he needed to 
repair the wastes of life; and the novelty and excitement of 
forest life were just sufficient to amuse, without exhausting, 

31 



474 • JOHN TODD. 

him. When the region became better known, and crowds 
of excursionists began to disturb the solitudes and frighten 
the game, he forsook his old haunts, and turned to the more 
distant but more lonely forests of Maine or Canada. But 
for many years there were but few to interfere with him, 
and he explored the region till he became perfectly familiar 
with the ponds and streams and " carries " of all that won- 
derful system of waters. He used to say that he could go, 
without a guide, to more than two hundred lakes. His trav- 
eling was done mostly in a light boat or birch-bark canoe, 
with an Indian or woodsman to do the hard work. His lug- 
gage consisted merely of a tent, a blanket, a gun, a few 
"woods-traps," a small "kit" or supply of cooking utensils, 
a few pieces of pork and ham, and a bag of crackers. In 
later years, having experienced much privation and suffer- 
ing in his first tours, he was led to take with him more and 
more conveniences and luxuries ; in consequence of which 
his jaunts were made with greater comfort, but with less 
manifest benefit than when the change in all his habits of 
life was greater. 

" Orillia, C.W., Kal. Aug. 21, 1872. 

" Conjux Carissima, — Omni virtute predita, et praeter te 
nemo ! 

"Omnes, usque ad hoc, salvi: item, imprimis, D.D., Col- 
lts Reverend., et Adolescens magnus. Sine grammatica, 
sine libris, quomodo scribam ? Tam feris homin\bus et fe- 
rocibus scribere linguam Anglieam obliviscor. 

"Cras in iter pergimus. Naves corticae quatuor sive 
quinque obtinentur, et filii fulvi quatuor nemorum, et homo 
Anglicus unus, expectantur. 

"Sic cras per fluvios, per saxa, et per impedimenta omnia 
ruimus. Ferae, scilicet, vulpes, lupi, ursi, castores, lutrae, et 
omne id genus, expectantur: sed non timemus. Ut leones 
feroces sumus. Pabulum multum, scilicet, poma terrae, 
panem, carnem bovium, salem, etc., in navibus posuimus. 
Pisces magnos et parvulos speramus. 

"Literae multae a nobis non expectandae : sed in cordibus 
nostris imis vos, diem noctemque, tenemus, et cogitationes 
multas ad vos mittimus. 

"Amorem multum, sincerum, a nobis amicis omnibus da. 

"Procul a te, tam intra dies paucos, quam multos ! 



HIS RECREATIONS. 475 

"Sperans quod bonum, faustum, felix, et mali nihil tibi, 
sura, nunc et. semper, 

" Tuus, cum amove, cum honore, cum corde,* 

" Jno. Todd." 

The first thing that he did, after fairly getting into the 
woods, was to lie down and sleep day and night for two or 
three days. He then roused up and was ready for a hunt. 
Fishing he never really enjoyed. He seldom threw a line, 
unless he was hungry; and the common practice of catching 
great strings offish which could not be used, for the sake of 
having something to boast of, was his abhorrence. Nor had 
he any taste for small game. He seldom carried a shot-gun ; 
and the birds and squirrels were left as undisturbed by him 
as if none of them had been good to eat. He used to say 
that the excitement of deer-hunting took away all his relish 
for the pursuit of smaller game. His hunting was done 
mostly in the night, with a "jack " in the bow of the boat. 
He had a keen eye, and, until his sight began to be affected 
by age, there were few deadlier shots. To kill a deer at 
sixty rods with an ordinary rifle was no uncommon thing 
for him. The hunters of the region gave him the reputation 
of being simply murderous and wasteful, killing for the mere 
fun of killing, and leaving his victims to taint the river- 
banks. But it should be borne in mind that the hunters 
came to have a grudge against him, and openly vowed re- 
venge — first, because he could, and often did, guide himself, 
and dispense with their services; and, secondly, because he 

* Dearest wife, endowed with every virtue, and besides thee no one ! 

All safe, so far : first, the D.D. , then Rev. Hill, and the great Youth. With- 
out a grammar, without books, how shall I write ? Among such wild and 
fierce men I forget how to write the English language. To-morrow we go 
on our journey. Four or five bark canoes are obtained, and four tawny sons 
of the woods and one Englishman are expected. So to-morrow we rush 
through rivers, through rocks, and all obstacles. Wild beasts, such as foxes, 
wolves, bears, beavers, otters, and every thing of that kind, are expected ; 
but we are not afraid. We are fierce as lions. We have put in the boats 
much food, such as potatoes, bread, beef, salt, etc. We hope for fish, great 
and small. Not many letters from us are to be looked for; but we hold you, 
night and day, in our inmost hearts, and send many thoughts toward you. 
Give all our friends much sincere love from us. In a few days how many 
days distant from thee! Hoping for thee what is good, propitious, happy, 
and no evil, I am now and always thine, with love, with honor, with the 
heart. 



476 



JOHN TODD. 




CAMP ON JACKSON'S POND. 



could kill in spite of them ; for it is not generally understood 
among those who frequent the forests and are disappointed 
that they do not see and get more game, that it is for the 
interest of the hunters not to allow their parties to find more 
game than just sufficient to encourage them : they wish to 
kill and sell the venison themselves in the winter. As a 
matter of fact, however, Doctor Todd never left a slaugh- 
tered deer in the bush when he could possibly find it; never 
went out with his gun when there was more venison in camp 
than could be used ; rarely brought home more than four or 
five skins in a season ; often spent the whole time without 
firing more than two or three shots; and could not be per- 
suaded, however hungry, to fire at a fawn, or a nursing doe. 
And he has frequently been seen gazing upon the eye of a 
dying deer with an expression of countenance that showed 



HIS HE CREATIONS. 411 

that the pleasure of the hunt 'was mingled with feelings 
which made it a costly purchase. 

A great part of his enjoyment of the woods sprung from 
his intense love of nature and natural scenery. The most 
minute objects attracted his attention ; he became familiar 
with the habits of all the creatures of the forest ; and the 
scenes which continually opened before him filled him with 
delight, enriched the treasuries of his imagination, and fur- 
nished many gems for his writings. "For myself, I have 
never found any thing like the fore.st. The ocean is grand, 
awful, fills you with wonder, and overwhelms you with fear. 
God is there, awful, walking on the wings of the wind, and 
on the crested billows; there he is clothed in terrors. In 
the solitude of the forest, he walks all around you in silence 
and majesty, each mighty tree a staff if he need, or a beautiful 
harp attuned to his praise." This enjoyment of the forest was 
mingled with deep religious feeling. "In the awful silence, 
you can almost hear the footsteps of God walking among the 
trees. You lie down, think of your distant home, think of 
the unmeasured solitude around you, and close your eyes 
thinking of God. I have several times been left alone in the 
wild forest all night, and have never seen any spot so con- 
genial to prayer." Sunday was always strictly observed as 
a day of rest : neither traveling nor hunting was allowed; 
and many is the deer that has come down to the water in 
full sight of the camp, and walked unharmed away (though 
there was nothing but pork for dinner), because it was "the 
Sabbath." On one occasion, at the foot of a lofty mountain 
which he wished to ascend, he lay idle during the whole of 
a glorious Sabbath, and turned a deaf ear to the entreaties 
of his guides, and refused to begin the ascent till Monday 
morning, though the weather was uncertain, the supplies 
were entirely exhausted, and he was twenty miles from the 
nearest, dwelling. 

On his first visit to Long Lake, he found a settlement upon 
it of about sixty souls. They w T ere without a church, or a 
school, or any of the ordinary blessings of Christian civili- 
zation. "Men had gone there to survey lands, to buy and 
sell, to hunt and fish, but no one to care for the soul. It 
was Saturday when we arrived, and as soon as it was known 
that a minister had come, two of the young ladies sprung 



478 JOHN TODD. 

into a little boat, and rowed round to let the families know 
of the event. The ladies there can row and manage a boat 
as well as they can a horse in other places. In thus calling 
on their neighbors, they must have rowed twelve or four- 
teen miles. The Sabbath morning came, and no hounds 
were sent to chase the deer; no fish were caught; the loons 
screamed unmolested. It was the first Sabbath that ever 
broke upon the lake, and I was to preach the first sermon. 
We met; the little boats coming up, some rowed by a fa- 
ther with all his family in it, some by the sisters, and some 
by the little brothers ; and one huge bark canoe, with an old 
hunter, who lived alone forty miles farther in the wilderness. 
We met in a little log- house covered with hemlock- bark. 
Men, women, children, and dogs were all there. We could 
not sing, for none had learned the songs of Zion in a strange 
land. In the afternoon we met four or five miles up the 
lake, to accommodate one who was feeble. They were all 
there again. One woodsman now recalled a half-hunting- 
tune or two, and so we had singing. Oh, what a meeting- 
was that ! They hung on the lips. They wept, and remem- 
bered the days and privileges they once enjoyed. They 
came around like children, and promised that, if I would 
'come in' and stay with them, they would leave off hunting 
and fishing on the Sabbath, and become good. And then 
we passed through the mighty forest, never yet degraded 
by the axe, down to the little bay, and then we all shot 
out of that sweet little bay together in our little boats, and 
then we parted." 

The next summer Mr. Todd visited Long Lake again, and 
found " evident and striking improvement. Some new fam- 
ilies had come in, and among them some professed Chris- 
tians. A temperance society had been formed, and all the 
little community belonged to it. They had established a 
Sabbath - school, and around it all were clustering on the 
Sabbath. 

"The Sabbath again broke in silence and beauty. At the 
appointed hour we were on our way to church, and swift- 
ly along came the little boats, stopping here and there just 
long enough to drink at the spring which gushed out of 
the mountain at the edge of the lake, or to pluck the wild 
water-lily, instead of a rose, for a nosegay. They were all 



HIS RECREATIONS. 4*79 

there. How still and solemn and appropriate their behav- 
ior ! How eagerly they listened! How kindly they re- 
ceived the Word, and hung around the door all day, not one 
going away for food during the intermission. And what an 
intermission was that! I spent it in conversing with them, 
and in trying to lay such plans as would be permanent. 
The Sabbath-school was held in the mean time. In the aft- 
ernoon there was a bowl of water on the little stand, by the 
side of a small, new Bible. What could I do? They were 
here alone. I knew of no church or minister within sixty or 
eighty miles, and that it would be out of the question to get 
a council there. So I took upon me the responsibility of go- 
ing forward. There were eleven ready — five men and six 
women ; and so, at the close of the service, I organized them 
into a church of God, by the name of The First Congrega- 
tional Church on Long Lake. I baptized eight of their 
children, including six little boys of one family. It was the 
most solemn season I ever witnessed. And when, in the 
name of my own church, and in the name of the beloved 
churches of New England, I gave them the right hand, I 
felt safe in assuring them that we should remember and 
sympathize with this young and feeble sister, who was thus 
'planted in the wilderness.'" 

On his return home, he wrote several articles for the 
newspapers about the little colony, and subsequently gath- 
ered them into a small tract. Great public interest was ex- 
cited. Contributions of money, books, and articles of cloth- 
ing were offered; a library of considerable value was se- 
cured ; and a missionary was sent in to the destitute people, 
and remained with them for several years. With the nov- 
elty of the subject, however, the interest of the public in it 
wore away. Contributions diminished ; the colonists them- 
selves did not, in their friend's opinion, do all that they 
could for themselves, and he wrote them a sharp but affec- 
tionate letter; the missionary was starved out, and obliged 
to retire ; and the work came to a pause. It was not, how- 
ever, wholly lost. Whenever Doctor Todd visited the Lake 
in after-years, he was warmly welcomed by those in whom 
he had taken so deep an interest ; and to this day, in the 
condition of the settlement, may clearly be seen the traces 
of his influence. His work at Long Lake is brought out 



480 JOHN TODD. 

into strong relief by the conduct of others. Of the many 
thousands who have visited that wilderness and have en- 
joyed its pleasures, who, even of ministers and those who 
have written letters or books about it, has shown an inter- 
est in the education or the moral and religious elevation of 
the poor settlers along its waters? But not even in the 
wilderness and in his vacation did Doctor Todd cease to do 
good, or lay aside the character of one anointed to preach 
the Gospel unto the poor. There is a story that, some years 
after the failure of the mission, one of the Long Lakers found 
his way to Pittsfield and into the reading-room, and was 
drawn into conversation with the gentlemen there about his 
home, and what Doctor Todd had done for it. " Oh yes," 
he said, "the Doctor came up there and did us a great deal 
of good, sent us a missionary, and organized a church ; but 
— he didn't quite understand us; why, d — n it, I was one of 
his deacons!" 

But, besides these annual vacations, Doctor Todd had, at 
different times, a number of other recreations. He was rare- 
ly without some hobby, with which he occupied and amused 
himself in leisure moments, riding it for the time with the 
greatest enthusiasm and delight, and then suddenly tiring 
of it, and changing it for another. Most of these hobbies 
were periodic, and came round in regular cycles ; and the 
zeal with which he took them up' one after another, and the 
mishaps and losses into which they often led him, afforded 
perpetual amusement to his friends, in which he always 
good-naturedly joined. 

Two of his most constant hobbies were furnished by his 
summer excursions — fishing-tackle and shooting-irons. All 
kinds of rods, lines, hooks, flies, bobs, bait-boxes, baskets, and 
other fishing-traps, found in him an ardent admirer and im- 
mediate purchaser. He would walk a dozen blocks in New 
York City to get a hook of a particular twist, or a line of a 
special make. And when he had secured them, he would 
make all sorts of wooden and leather cases to keep them in. 
He has been known to tug patiently for weeks, in the woods, 
a heavy case, containing tackle enough to furnish a small 
store, ingeniously packed and arranged. But he could hard- 
ly ever be persuaded to fish unless absolutely starving. 
And when the trout were caught, and broiled, and set before 



HIS RECREATIONS. 481 

him, though his eyes sparkled and his exclamations were 
rapturous, he always partook sparingly of the fish, and it in- 
variably disagreed with him. In his last sickness, a friend 
sent him a splendid dish of trout for his gratification, and 
two of them were brought to him, cooked in the best style. 
After eating them, heads and all (that was a matter of prin- 
ciple with him), in that desperate w r ay in which we eat when 
we try to like what we are really anxious to get through 
with, he turned to his son-in-law, and said, in a low tone, 
" Charles, to tell the honest truth, I never did like trout !" 

He had a similar mania for shooting-irons and ammunition 
of every kind. Every new gun or rifle had to be tried as 
fast as it appeared, and he always kept three or four on hand. 
Every one of them had a name, and was a kind of pet — till 
the next style came out. Not that he ever did much shoot- 
ing : more than once he has been known to lug two or three 
guns through the wilderness for weeks without firing a shot. 
It was the fun of getting the best guns, and adjusting sights 
to them, and preparing ammunition for them, and contriving 
all kinds of belts, and boxes, and cases for them, and not the 
hunting, that he enjoyed. 

One of his periodic hobbies was bees. He began with 
them in Philadelphia. The heart of a great city is not, one 
would think, the most convenient place for swarms of bees; 
but he obviated some of the difficulties by putting them in 
the attic ; and, as the slope of the roof made it necessary to 
set the hives quite in the middle of the room, he devised 
long, narrow bridges from the hives to the window, and cov- 
ered them with glass, so that the bees could be seen travel- 
ing to and fro, a journey to which they seriously objected. 
True, it was uncomfortable, whenever any sw r eet thing was 
cooking in the kitchen, to have half a swarm of bees come 
pouring in; and this the neighbors found, for half a block 
around. But, then, they never knew r where their tormentors 
came from. It was trying, too, to have a new swarm go off 
and settle on the only tree in the street, an object of interest 
to a perplexed policeman and a crowd of grinning urchins, 
but a loss to the owner, who did not care to claim it. This 
first attempt to raise honey was brought to an untimely 
end by the singular depravity of the emblems of industry 
themselves, who, finding that molasses was to be had the 



482 JOHN TOLD. 

year round at the wharves, and at the wholesale grocers' 
doors, abandoned the business of manufacture, and joined 
the street boys always hanging round the precious hogs- 
heads. But when he moved to Pittsfield, the opportunity 
for indulging in bee-raising became more inviting; and, but 
for the trilling circumstance that summer was so short there, 
that little honey could be made, and the winter so long that 
a swarm of bees could seldom survive it, the business might 
have been profitable. However, he went into it with enthu- 
siasm : he bought books on the subject, and saved scraps 
from newspapers; he corresponded with bee- raisers; he 
made all sorts of veiled hats, smoking apparatus, and tools, 
for manipulating the bees and their comb; he constructed 
all sorts of bee-houses, at one time making with his own 
hands a perfect miniature model of the Parthenon, large 
enough to contain two or three hives, which stood for years 
in his front yard, and proved a perfect bee-mausoleum, as 
they died as fast as they were put into its dampness. He 
made hives of all possible and some impossible shapes, try- 
ing every new patent, conscientiously purchasing the right 
to manufacture, and lumbering up his garret with mysteri- 
ous- looking boxes, each one more worthless than the rest. 
"I believe that I belong naturally to the Hivites. I find 
that I can make my new hives for $2 50 each, while I can 
buy them for $2 each ; but, the?i, those I make are so much 
better/" He tried all sorts of experiments. In one of his 
attacks of bee-fever, he read that the best way to keep bees 
through the winter was to bury them. Forthwith his forty 
swarms — for his yard was unusually full at that time of fee- 
ble swarms — went into the ground. The hives came out in 
the spring, but not the bees. It will readily be seen that, 
although he often had great quantities of honey, the busi- 
ness was not very profitable. The most amusing part of it 
was, that his bees seemed to entertain a peculiar aversion 
to him. He could scarcely go near them without getting 
stung; and a sting produced a peculiarly distressing effect 
upon him. On being stung, no matter where, he would 
presently turn deathly pale, lose consciousness, and, on com- 
ing to himself, find relief only after terrible nausea, vomit- 
ing, and half a day's sickness. Any body could go nearer 
the hives, and handle the bees with more impunity, than he 



HIS RECREATIONS. 483 

could. " Fools rushed in where angels feared to tread." But 
all this did not in the least damp his enthusiasm. 

Another of his periodic hobbies was — hens. At intervals 
of some years he was seized with a passion for building hen- 
houses and yards, and collecting all sorts of rare varieties 
of feathered bipeds. Then he bought books on the subject, 
and subscribed for magazines, and corresponded with pro- 
fessional poulterers. Then gigantic Shanghais stalked awk- 
wardly and croaked ominously about, and Polands, and Ban- 
tams, and Cochins, and Grays, and a score of other kinds, of 
names known only to himself and the initiated, made early 
morning hideous. The hennery was, of course, filled with all 
sorts of contrivances. The wretched fowls were compelled 
to walk up curious gangways, and roost on ingenious 
perches, and eat and drink out of patent machines, till life 
became a burden to them. Once he made quite a journey 
to look at a patent thousand-egg-hatcher. Luckily it had 
just baked a thousand disappointed chickens. Of course, 
fowls of such choice varieties were too good to be killed, 
and too bad to lay ; so the profit was altogether on paper. 
On one occasion he brought home a dozen wild-turkey eggs, 
and from them he succeeded in raising one splendid creat- 
ure — who was stolen, beheaded, and eaten by a worthless 
negro, impudent enough to complain afterward that the bird 
w T as so heavy to carry. At another time a friend told him 
that he had just seen in Putnam 's Monthly a remarkable 
sketch of a fowl. He supposed that my father had seen the 
magazine and understood the joke, and was surprised after- 
ward to learn that no sooner was he gone than his victim 
put on his coat and plodded out in a pouring rain to buy 
the magazine, and find — one of the broadest of caricatures. 
The conscience-stricken joker made his peace by sending a 
present of fowls, which elicited the following acknowledg- 
ment : 

"My dear Brother, — The two Biddies came safely and 
soundly, and professed to be well pleased with Berkshire re- 
ception and hospitality. They could give no information 
about your health or gloves, your prospects or your pease, 
your prosperity or your poetry. Indeed, I couldn't find out 
by them what instructions you had given them, or what 



484 JOHN TODD. 

education they had received. By the way they ate, I con- 
cluded them to be consumers; but as they immediately be- 
gan to lay, I suppose you have brought them up to he pro- 
ducers. One, I perceive, has her limbs covered down to the 
feet, and the other, a Bloomer, has hers bare. I shall try to 
give them opportunity to develop their powers, and to do 
honor to the teacher at whose feet they have thus far sat. 
I wish I had some pet to return, but having nothing but a 
furious tom-cat, who thinks he smells gunpowder whenever 
he sees one of our sex, I am afraid you would not greatly 
prize his society, though he has -a great deal of character, 
energy, and go-aheadativeness. I must therefore, quoad hoc, 
return you my earthly thanks for what is so celestial as 
these Biddies, with the hope that if I don't do you as great 
a kindness, somebody else will. Most hen-thankfully, yours 
most truly." 

On another occasion he was returning from Albany in his 
own carriage, with his wife, when they saw at the door of a 
cabin an uncommonly beautiful rooster. In a very few min- 
utes a bargain was struck, and for a dollar and a half the 
prize was caught, tied, deposited in the carriage, and borne 
home in triumph. The next day he was turned loose, and 
in about half an hour, being a full-blood game-cock, he had 
killed every rooster on the place, which put an end to the 
hen-fever for that time. 

At intervals he was seized with a passion for flower-gar- 
dening. He really was exceedingly fond of flowers; and 
nothing pleased him more, in the last years of his life, than 
the flowers with which the ladies of his parish adorned and 
perfumed his pulpit every Sabbath. One of his earliest pur- 
chases was a vast volume entitled "Loudon's Encyclopaedia 
of Gardening ;" and this trifling source of information was 
re-enforced, from time to time, with an army of pamphlets, 
catalogues from florists in all parts of the land, mysterious 
packages from the Patent Office, and letters innumerable. 
His attention was confined, for the most part, to indoor flori- 
culture, his stony garden having few charms for him, and 
his love for the spade and hoe having been worn out, it may 
be, in his boyhood. At intervals strange, tiny conserva- 
tories would grow out of his study- windows or in the 



HIS RECREATIONS. 485 

piazza ; and one of the very last purchases that he made 
was a new patent Wardian case, warranted to keep plants 
fresh all winter without care. Such an invention was emi- 
nently adapted to his style of gardening; for, with his mode 
of riding his hobbies, it will readily be conjectured that the 
plants in his care stood but a small chance of receiving 
regular, patient attention, and were shorter-lived than the 
Psalmist's "flower of the field." At one time his enthusi- 
asm rose to such a pitch that he wrote and preached a ser- 
mon about flowers, which was much admired, but of which 
in after, cooler moments he entertained many grave doubts. 
He seldom allowed one of his hobbies to get into the pulpit. 
But he always loved flowers, and, could he have been pres- 
ent at his own burial, nothing would have pleased him more 
than the masses of flowers with which loving hands clothed 
his pulpit and his grave. He was the last man in the world 
to whom to apply Longfellow's description of the austere 
Killingworth parson, 

"E'en now, while walking down the lane, 
He lopped the wayside lilies with his cane." 

At the communion-table in his church, November 5th, 
1872, he spoke as follows: 

"Before taking my place at this table, I desire to say that 
the unknown hands that have procured and so gracefully 
arranged these flowers, the beautiful creations of God, were 
guided, I doubt not, by the same love to Christ that broke 
the alabaster-box over his head in the day of his humilia- 
tion. And as he was pleased, not with the odor of the oint- 
ment so much as with the piety that brought the gift, so, I 
trust, he will receive, as done for him, these beautiful things 
that adorn his house and his table to-day. And I take this 
opportunity to return my thanks to the fair ones, whom I 
love scarcely less than daughters, for the honors which they 
this day and through the past season have so kindly, and 
with a taste so cultivated, bestowed upon our dear Lord. 
May ' the beauty of the Lord,' ' the beauty of holiness,' like 
the indescribable beauty which radiates from these vases, 
rest upon their souls, and fit them to walk in ' the garden of 
the Lord ' forever !" 

For many years he owned a small farm, about a mile from 



486 JOHN TODD. 

the town, which was annually a source of immense reve- 
nue, according to his figures. Here every new-fangled ag- 
ricultural implement was in requisition. Plows, cultivators, 
sowers, rollers, and every thing else then invented, crowd- 
ed the sheds, and were borrowed and broken by the neigh- 
bors ad libitum. Various agricultural books and magazines 
and papers were deeply studied; and the rotation of crops 
and the mysteries of fertilization were scientifically and learn- 
edly discussed. All known and unknown fertilizers arrived 
from all quarters in carts and barrels ; and there were, cer- 
tainly, very few experiments in farming suggested which were 
not here faithfully tested. At one time he had an idea of 
making the farm a /rm^-place ; and orders were sent in ev- 
ery direction for all kinds of vines and trees, cions and cut- 
tings ; among the rest, for a wonderful strawberry -plant 
somewhere in Georgia, which was to bear mammoth berries 
every month, as the tree of life its leaves, and which never 
bore a single one. With the help of his children, he set but 
and grafted some hundreds of apple and pear trees, most of 
which continue to this present, and are excellent — shade- 
trees. It must be admitted that this farm afforded a great 
profusion of many articles of food, and so was of great assist- 
ance to him just at the time when he had a great and hun- 
gry family dependent upon him; still, in itself, as a model 
of profitable scientific farming, it was perhaps a failure. 

At another time he was devoted to Alderney cattle. One 
of the pure breed was, after much correspondence with va- 
rious parties, brought in the cars from a great distance, and 
for a time was the wonder of the neighborhood ; and, in spite 
of several misfortunes, he succeeded in raising a very pretty 
little herd, of which he thought almost as much as if they 
had been human beings. 

It happened that at about this time the papers had a 
good deal to say about the voyages of Rev. Mr. C on va- 
rious rivers in a wherry. At once a correspondence was 

opened with Mr. C , who had been till that time an entire 

stranger. He was plied with a whole catechism of questions 
about the structure, use, and cost of a wherry. Not long 

afterward, at a dinner-party, Mr. C happened to mention 

the singular enthusiasm of his correspondent on the subject 
in the presence of a wealthy parishioner and intimate friend 



HIS RECREATIONS. 487 

of Doctor Todd's, and was at once commissioned to purchase 
the best wherry that he could select for the pastor. Great 
was the wonderment of the town, and great the pastor's de- 
light, when Mr. C arrived with the strange-looking craft. 

Mr. says: "Many were the whispered inquiries as to 

whether the boat was really the property of the Doctor, and 
whether he was really going to get into it. I assured the 
questioners that this was a gift to the good pastor from one 
of his parishioners, and that before dinner-time he purposed 
to take his first lesson in the new style of navigation under 
my personal tuition. A wagon was procured, and arrange- 
ments made to convey the Doctor, his boat, and his tutor to 
the nearest pond. It was, meanwhile, only too evident that 
a goodly fraction of the gazing crowd w T ere making their ar- 
rangements to accompany us on foot and see the sport. A 
natural instinct suggested to the Doctor that the first lesson 
might involve some embarrassing circumstances ; and I will 
never forget how that crowd looked when the good pastor, 
whose word was authoritative in Pittsfield, looked over his 
spectacles, and said, 'I do not wish any of you to go to the 
pond with me.' The result was, that the Doctor and I and 
the horse went alone. Arrived at the lake margin, the lit- 
tle craft w r as speedily launched, and I first rowed her out 
a piece, to show my pupil how the thing was done. Then, 
disembarking, I carefully put him into his seat, holding the 
little wiggling thing steady, and arranging the oars. All 
ready, and a boat-load of cautions having been put aboard 
with my precious freight, I pushed him out from the shore, 
within reach, to try his first venture. He was directed to 
hold the oars perfectly stiff, and sit perfectly still to begin 
with, neither of which he did. The boat began to wiggle, 
and the Doctor went through some remarkable feats of gym- 
nastics to adapt himself to its capricious moods. At length 
he let one oar drop, and the handle flying up in the air 
knocked oft* his gold spectacles and toppled Over his brown 
hat, and made him appear in a most undignified attitude 
generally. Narrowly he escaped immersion, but I caught 
the tip of the erratic oar, and pulled my pupil ashore. In 
vain I tried to persuade him to renew the experiment on 
that occasion ; though he held out hopes that he might do 
so at some future time. Placing the naughty little boat in 

32 



488 JOHN TODD. 

the wagon again, we mounted and drove to the parsonage, 
where it was carefully hung up under the piazza, the curios- 
ity and the admiration of the whole village." The experi- 
ment was renewed on a subsequent occasion. One summer 
afternoon he ordered his man to bring up the wagon and 
take him and the little boat down to a retired spot on the 
river, and leave him there. An hour or two later there came 
up a heavy shower, and in the midst of the pouring rain 
Doctor Todd appeared, drenched to the skin. He was im- 
mediately taken in hand and carefully tended ; and, after the 
shower was over, the wagon was sent for the boat; and no 
one would ever have attributed the wetting to any thing 
but the shower, had not an old farmer, wandering along the 
riparian boundary of his lands, arrived at the spot just in 
time to see him crawl up from the bottom of the river. But 
no such misadventure with one of his hobbies ever checked 
his enthusiasm about another, or, indeed, more than tempo- 
rarily cooled his ardor about the very one that threw him. 
And, though he kept his failures to himself as much as possi- 
ble, yet when found out he would join in the laugh at him- 
self with the most amiable and hearty good-nature. 

The hobby that was taken up earliest, and, on the whole, 
ridden most steadily, was his workshop. He had hardly es- 
tablished a home of his own when the tinkering that house- 
keeping calls for led him to procure a few carpenter's tools, 
and from time to time he added to the assortment as occa- 
sion arose. Before long he obtained a rude lathe, mostly of 
his own construction ; and soon he had a large shop, con- 
taining a work-bench, blacksmith's forge and anvil, and a 
turner's lathe, with a respectable lot of tools for working in 
wood and metal. A i'ew years before he died, he accident- 
ally came into possession of a remarkably fine lathe and set 
of tools accompanying it, and from that time he began to 
accumulate the furniture of a first-rate turner's shop. A 
room in the house adjoining his study was appropriated to 
it, where he could guard his implements from the meddling 
of others, especially servants, and could have his recreation 
near his desk, so that he could turn to it at any moment. 
His friends took pleasure in encouraging his fancy with 
many gifts of tools and money for special designated pur- 
poses; until at last he had a valuable and quite famous 



HIS RECREATIONS. 



489 




DR. TODD'S WORKSHOP. 



workshop. Several descriptions of it have been published. 
Three or four lathes, a buzz-saw, scroll and jig saws, a fine 
bench with an anvil, and a perfect little steam -engine of 
about half-horse power, constituted the main furniture; while 
all around, the four walls were covered with cases contain- 
ing several hundred tools, many of them of the finest and 
most complicated structure and costliest character. There 
were whole cases of bottles containing oils, varnishes, gums, 
and paints. There were rows upon rows of boxes of nails, 
brads, and screws of every possible size and shape. There 
were drawers upon drawers of rare woods and blocks of 
ivory, imported from Africa especially for him, in the rough 
and in various stages of manufacture. Some of the tools 
were so complicated that it seemed impossible for any one 
to learn how to use them; but it was his boast that he 



490 JOHN TODD. 

knew the use of every instrument, and knew the place of 
each so well that he could lay his hand on it in the dark. 
That he made no great use of all these tools will readily be 
understood. He did, indeed, learn the use of them, and ac- 
quire a creditable skill in the management of them ; and he 
made a number of very prettily worked articles. Scarce one 
of the family but has some specimen of his handiwork, in 
the shape of an ivory box, a match -safe, a shawl -pin, or 
something of the kind. But he was too busy a man with 
his pen to spend much time in mechanical operations; and, 
after all, it was the collecting and arranging of his imple- 
ments which he enjoyed, rather than the use of them in 
hard labor, for which, in fact, his infirmities unfitted him. 
He took the greatest care of his tools, keeping every one 
of them well-oiled and in its place, wiping off* all particles 
of dust or rust from their shining surfaces as softly as tears 
from the faces of children. They were too precious to be 
put to ignoble uses. He did, indeed, condescend to do most 
of the little tinkering that is called for in a household, 
though he did not like it as well as turning ivory boxes; 
but when, one day, a frying-pan with a hole in it was brought 
to him for repair, it was too much for him. Whether it was 
the indignity offered to his tools, as he pretended, or the job 
was really too difficult for him, is not certain; but ever aft- 
erward he could not bear the mention of a frying-pan. In 
his own description of his workshop, he says : " I can repair 
a lock, cover and recover a trunk, fix a disordered clock, 
mend tin, and almost any thing except put a bottom in a 
frying-pan, which I have been asked to do." 

"My workshop, next to my study, is my glory, and I am 
improving it every little while. And the lathe! O thou 

Mrs. W , how could you apply the epithet 'hobby' to 

this noble, sublime, curious, unappreciated instrument? O 
thou shade of Bergeron ! if thou ever walkest the earth to 
rebuke evil-doers or correct mistakes, do thou appear to 

good Mrs. W , and show her the enormity of her words. 

'Hobby!' Why, it deserves to be said or sung in song, 
sounded on the harp, lifted up with the trumpet, and droned 
through the bagpipe — that is, the lathe, and not the word 
'hobby.' Well, blessed be thou, and blessed be my wife, 
for allowing and encouraging us to ride our hobbies !" 



HIS RECREATIONS. 491 

It may seem to some that such hobbies as have been de- 
scribed in this chapter betray a weakness of character, and 
are unworthy of an earnest, intellectual, and Christian man. 
In the following letter, written but a short time before his 
death, he seems to be conscious of being exposed to criti- 
cism in this respect, and suggests a touching apology for 
himself: 

" Pittsfield, March 25th, 1873. 

"My dear Sir, — Will you permit me to suppose you are 
willing to do an errand for me? If I am taking too great 
a liberty (and I dare not say I am not), I must earnestly ask 
your pardon. You know that, just before they put children 
to bed, they give them dolls and toys to play with and 
amuse them. Is it not so that old men, who see themselves 
turning into shadows, need some toy to amuse them, and 
make them feel that still they can do something — toys just 
before they go to sleep ? Thy servant is such a shadow, and 

I am trying to behave just as well as I can My best 

respects and admiration to your good wife and children, and 
be assured, my dear good Frank, I love you very much." 

Possibly this explanation accounts, in part, for the in- 
creased devotion to his "toys" in his last year of retirement 
and leisure ; but it is evident that the same tendency accom- 
panied him all his life, and was a part of his character. 

It must be allowed that there was at least one advantage 
resulting from it. It enabled him to do and endure vastly 
more than would have been possible without it. Never 
could he have borne the burdens and accomplished the 
work that he did, if he had not had one of these hobbies at 
hand to which to turn his whole attention, thus unbending 
his mind, and relieving its strain, and changing, for the mo- 
ment, all its moods and processes. He would rise from his 
study-table jaded and exhausted, and go into his workshop, 
or bee-yard, or to his collection of guns or fish-lines, and in 
three minutes forget that there was a sermon or book in the 
world, or any thing but the business in hand ; and in half 
an hour would return to his work with fresh strength like 
a giant. His " toys " also kept his disposition sweet and 
healthy and hearty, by furnishing amusement for a spirit 
worn with the cares and annoyances, and the drain upon his 
sympathies, incident to his profession. He has often been 



492 JOHN TODD. 

known to receive some insulting or vexations letter, and be 
troubled by it for a little while, or return from distressing 
scenes of sickness and sorrow, weary and dispirited, and go 
to his shooting-traps or his tool-cases, and, in fixing some- 
thing, forget in live minutes his vexations or his worries, and 
be whistling as light-hearted as a boy. 

It must be remembered, too, that this tendency to hobbies 
was indivisible from certain qualities which could not have 
been spared. If it was a weakness, it was the weakness in- 
evitably incident to his peculiar form of strength. The en- 
thusiasm and earnestness and eagerness of interest and pur- 
pose with which he entered into every thing, and which 
gave him much of his power, necessarily led him into the hot 
pursuit of trifles, too. Had he been less eager in these, he 
would have been a less earnest man in every thing. 

But the tendency here portrayed is not to be regarded as 
a weakness, but rather as another and striking exhibition of 
his exceeding and beautiful childlikeness of character. Un- 
like St. Paul, he never altogether ceased to be a child, or put 
away childish things. In his love of new toys, as in his in- 
terest in young people, and every thing new and fresh — in 
his hearty enjoyment and mirth — in his unsuspecting sim- 
plicity — in his humility, his meekness, his docility, his affec- 
tionateness, his tenderness — he was, to the last, a little child ; 
and as I walk among his silent lathes, and glance at his rows 
of polished tools, and remember with what delight each new 
acquisition was received, and with what fondness each new 
toy was handled, I can not but think that "of such is the 
kingdom of God." 



DOCTOR TODD AT HOME. 49i 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

DR. TODD AT HOME. 

Wide Sympathies. — The Ballot-box. — Patriotism. — A Bishop. — Esprit de 
Corps. — The Doctors. — A high Mountain. — A good Citizen. — Schools. — 
Improvements. — Sprinkling. — The Poor. — A converted Jew. — S3 r stematic 
Benevolence. — Achievements. — Preacher vs. Pastor. — Disappointed Dea- 
cons. — A Critic silenced. — A good Companion. — Spiritualism. — A wide 
Circulation. — The Peddler. — Methodist Prayers. — The Under-tone. — Ques- 
tions. — "Very Satisfaction." — "Slightly, Sir." — Hospitalities. — Jokes. — 
The Bed made. — Visitors. — Overestimated Friends. — Children's Sports. — 
Thanksgiving Presents. — Discipline. — A Pea -brush. — The family Post- 
office. — The family Tryst. — Education.— Love Affairs. — Religion in the 
Family. — "Prayers."— Saturday Night. — The Sabbath. — Hymns and 
Questions. — The right Line of Thought. — Religious Conversation.— Ad- i 
vice. — A wonderful Woman. — Acknowledgments. — A Love-letter.— Home 
loved. 

The sympathies and labors of Doctor Todd were very 
widely extended. He was a great traveler, and wherever he 
went lie became deeply interested in the people and places 
and things that he saw. He took, and read, many newspa- 
pers and periodicals, and kept himself informed of all the 
great movements of the day. He maintained an active in- 
terest in all the great institutions of education, charity, and 
religion, not only in his own country, but elsewhere ; and 
many were the contributions that he persuaded his congrega- 
tion to send to aid some good work very far away. He was 
in constant demand, all over the country, to forward by his 
pen or voice some benevolent enterprise. He wrote a great 
deal for the press, and aimed to make an impression upon 
the general public. He was ready to promote any great 
reform, unless it seemed to him to trespass upon ground 
taken by the Bible. He was strongly patriotic ; and, though 
some peculiar notions always kept him away from the bal- 
lot-box, and though he deprecated much of the spirit, and 
many of the measures, which contributed to produce the 
civil war, and though, in addition to his constitutional aver- 
sion to strife, he had deep sympathy for the Southern people, 
growing out of kindnesses received among them in early life, 



494 JOHN TODD. 

yet no man, after hostilities had commenced, bore a greater 
burden of anxiety upon his heart, or preached or prayed 
more earnestly for the success of the national arms; and 
many were the companies of soldiers who went away from 
his church animated by his patriotic appeals, and by his 
hopeful predictions for his country ; and many were the suf- 
ferers who were relieved through his labors at the head of 
the Christian Commission work in the county. His private 
correspondence, also, was immense, and brought him into 
connection with many in all lands. 

But, after all, he was emphatically a home man ; and he 
was most deeply interested in, and devoted to, the people 
and things immediately about him. No one knew him thor- 
oughly who did not know him in Berkshire County, in Pitts- 
field, in the First Church, and in his own family. 

The county of Berkshire was to him the most beautiful 
region in the world. He would often point out its natural 
charms to strangers, and speak of them in his family letters, 
with the enthusiasm of a mind highly sensitive to the beau- 
tiful and the poetic. In all this region he was recognized 
as a kind of bishop, partly, in later years, on account of his 
age and experience ; partly because of his being pastor of 
the leading church in the county; but most of all, on ac- 
count of his strong common sense and practical wisdom, and 
his unconscious tendency to push to the front and take the 
lead, from sheer weight and energy of character. There was 
scarcely a convention or anniversary, a dedication or an in- 
stallation, or a meeting or gathering of any kind, secular or 
religious, which did not demand his presence. Every church 
which had no minister, or which had one minister too many, 
or which was in a quarrel, or any other difficulty ; every 
minister in search of a place, or in trouble of any kind, re- 
sorted to him. He was apt to be chosen moderator in coun- 
cils ; and if there was any task of peculiar delicacy and diffi- 
culty to be performed, the honor was pretty sure to be as- 
signed to him. Nor was his influence purely ecclesiastical. 
People came to him for counsel and help from all quarters, 
and poured the stories of their troubles into his ears till he 
sometimes groaned for deliverance. 

With reference to the ministry he felt an unusual esprit de 
corps. He always felt that his profession was higher than 



DOCTOR TODD AT HOME. 495 

all others, not only in its aim and mission, but in the aver- 
age ability and character of its members. He was careful 
to maintain cordial, social relations with all the neighbor- 
ing ministers, and always manifested great interest in the 
younger brethren, and in the new-comers, especially if they 
showed themselves thoroughly trained in theology. He was 
always punctual in his attendance upon the meetings of the 
" association " to which he belonged, and faithful in the per- 
formance of the "parts" assigned him; and he enjoyed all 
that was said and done even by those who were very infe- 
rior to him ; and when, on account of its size, the association 
was divided, he greatly mourned the loss of the privilege of 
meeting regularly those who were withdrawn. The emi- 
nence of his position, and his own superiority, naturally ex- 
posed him to envy and jealousy on the part of some of his 
smaller and weaker brethren, who felt that he was " aristo- 
cratic," did not love to exchange with them, etc. ; but, though 
he was aware of this, he never seemed to know it, and it did 
not in the least affect the kindness of his feelings toward 
them. 

He was also on excellent terms with the other professions. 
His relations with physicians were especially pleasant. Not 
only did he, like other ministers, meet them continually in 
his parochial labors, but, by the immense amount of sickness 
in his family, he was brought into more immediate personal 
relations with them. The kindness which he received from 
them was unmeasured, and it was repaid, in part, by great 
confidence in them, and an intelligent sympathy with them 
in their peculiar trials. Perhaps his interest in them arose 
partly from the fact that his own father and uncle, and many 
others of his name, had belonged to the profession. For 
many years he was a trustee of the Berkshire Medical Insti- 
tution (which was at one time a large school), and as such 
took a lively interest in its prosperity and in its students. 
There are not a few physicians, in all parts of the country, 
who remember partaking of his hospitalities when students 
in Pittsfield. For some years of the latter part of his life he 
was an honorary member of the Berkshire Medical Society, 
and attended their annual meetings ; and they attended his 
funeral in a body. One of his last acts was to make a speech 
at the annual dinner of the Massachusetts Medical Society ; 



496 JOHN TODD. 

and he was received with a cordiality which ought to exist 
oftener between those who heal the body and those who re- 
store the soul. 

The most beautiful place in the county, to him, was Pitts- 
field. He took a great pride in the place, and delighted to 
praise it. When he went to Europe, he took a picture of it 
with him ; and he never went away without experiencing a 
feeling of homesickness. Many an attractive call was de- 
clined, simply because his life was so deeply rooted in this 
place and people. President Hopkins has said: "In losing- 
Doctor Todd, Pittsfield has lost a man" — he might justly 
have said, the man — "who gave it distinction. He was 
known not only throughout New England and the whole 
country, but over the world. Every considerable place has 
its local great men, and when you are among them it may 
be hard to tell the difference. It is with them as with 
mountains when you are among them. Your position may 
make the lower seem the higher. In my home a mountain 
comes between and shuts off Greylock; but when I go to a 
distance the lower mountains sink, and Greylock lifts itself, 
till at length that alone is seen in the far horizon. Doctor 
Todd was one who thus lifted himself in the distance." The 
illustration is most apt. He has made the name of that 
place distinguished and familiar in distant regions and other 
lands, where, but for him, it would be as little known as it 
was before he was born. It was his ambition to be a good 
citizen as w r ell as a good minister, and he was constantly 
planning and laboring for the improvement of the town in 
every possible way. As chairman of the school committee, 
he urged and secured the rebuilding of "all the school-houses 
in town, one each year, when they were shamefully poor," 
and also the establishment of a grammar-school, till then 
neglected. There were also, at different times, several pri- 
vate schools in the place, to all of which he gave counte- 
nance and assistance. In one of them he gave Biblical lect- 
ures weekly for twenty years, so paying in part for the edu- 
cation of his daughters. In a second school he sometimes 
gave a parallel course. He was one of the first to urge the 
introduction of gas and water into the town, even pleading 
for it from the pulpit on Thanksgiving-days; and his house 
w T as one of the very earliest to receive the pipes. He ef- 



DOCTOR TODD AT HOME. 497 

fected not a little improvement in the agriculture of the 
town by the new methods and new implements which he 
introduced in the management of his little farm. It is said 
that there was not a "compost-heap" in town, till he began 
to show how peat-bogs and other material could be utilized. 
He was all his life a very zealous member of the independent 
portion of the fire department; and before the invention of 
the modern contrivances for extinguishing fire, such a per- 
son had ample opportunity to exercise his gifts. Often he 
was seen in the very front of the battle. On one occasion 
he was at work with an axe on the roof of a neighbor's 
house, when the stream from the hose of one of the engines 
was accidentally turned upon him. When he came down, 
completely drenched, a good Baptist friend stepped up to 
him and congratulated him upon having at last been through 
the water. "Yes," was the reply, "but you see I believe in 
sprinkling still." There was scarcely a good institution or 
a public improvement in the town, during his residence in 
it, to which he did not give encouragement and aid, either 
openly, or through others who were allowed to appear more 
prominently. It was his voice which consecrated the beau- 
tiful cemetery, and was heard at the laying of the corner- 
stone, or the opening of the Medical College, the Library, 
the Court-house, and many another public building and 
church. One of his last acts was to give to the AthenaBum 
a noble collection of large photographs of views in California. 
And one of his last projects, a village hospital, has been 
taken up, since his death, by the ladies of the town, and is 
in a fair way to be realized. For the poor and the suffering 
he always had great sympathy and readiness to help. It 
was very hard for him to refuse to give; he never did, when 
he had any thing and the object seemed worthy ; nor was it 
easy for him to do it, whatever the object; a fact which im- 
postors were not slow to find out. Often has he been seen 
creeping softly from his study down to the front door with 
money in his hand, fearful, apparently, of meeting some one 
who would remonstrate with him. "A gallows-looking con- 
verted Jew has interrupted me, and got a quarter out of me. 
I'm ashamed, but it's very cold, and what can I do ?" "And 
you gave him some money?" asked one of the children on 
this outrageous occasion. He laughed, and shrugged his 



498 JOHN TODD. 

shoulders, and said that he wouldn't harden his heart by re- 
fusing. For many of the later years of his life, he made it 
an inflexible rule to give away one-tenth of his income ; but 
this did not nearly cover his charities. 

The First Church was, of course, the chief object of his 
thoughts and labors. He found the people worshiping " in 
an old plain church, so leaky that we often had to gather up 
the carpets in service-time. The church was not more than 
two-thirds filled. The parish never had a lecture-room, but 
held their extra-meetings in the upper part of an old church. 
They owed for seven years' rent of this, for the fuel and 
light for two years, a long arrearage for the bread used at 
the communion-table, and a note in the bank for the former 
pastor's salary." He left them worshiping in an elegant 
great stone church, completely furnished, with a steam-heat- 
ing apparatus, and a costly organ ; every pew taken at a 
high premium, and the long side-galleries filled every Sab- 
bath with young men and women ; with a chapel, also of 
stone, as large and as expensive as many a church ; with a 
large and flourishing Sunday-school, having branches in sev- 
eral manufacturing districts ; a prayer-meeting enthusiastic- 
ally attended ; three or four ladies' societies, great in num- 
bers and in usefulness ; the parish being free from debt ex- 
cept for the recently built chapel, and owning a valuable par- 
sonage, and the congregation contributing ten thousand dol- 
lars annually for benevolent purposes beyond their own ex- 
penses. And all this had been accomplished with such skill, 
and with such concealment of his own hand, that the people 
never dreamed that he had much to do with it, but thought 
that they were doing it all themselves. 

For the accomplishment of this he relied, first of all, upon 
his preaching. He considered this the most important of a 
minister's duties, and he well knew that this was his own 
strong point : he felt that when he had filled up the con- 
gregation and the treasury, and made the people feel good- 
natured, he could easily persuade them to do any thing that 
he wanted. As a pastor he was naturally deficient. He did 
not love to "make calls," and had little interest in the small 
talk, complaints, and idle words which people love to pour 
into a pastor's ears. He always recognized and lamented 
his deficiencies in this respect, and endeavored to atone for 



DOCTOR TODD AT HOME. 499 

them in other ways. In one class of pastoral services only 
was he superior. His sympathetic and tender nature made 
him an invaluable friend in time of sickness and trouble. He 
was the one to whom it always fell to perform the delicate 
and painful task of communicating evil tidings for those who 
did not dare to do it themselves; and he was sent for from 
all quarters to visit the sick, bury the dead, and comfort the 
mourning — calls which he never hesitated to answer, though 
he shrunk from every one of them beforehand, and was al- 
most sick afterward. 

In carrying out his plans he exercised great shrewdness, 
leading his people to the point where he wished to bring 
them by gradual approaches ; putting others forward to 
move, as it seemed even to themselves, spontaneously; rul- 
ing — a perfect autocrat — and yet never allowing the weight 
of his authority to be felt. He asked very little counsel, 
listened deferentially to advice, and — did as he thought best. 
Seldom were any attempts made to coerce him. A few of 
his deacons once waited upon him to make a very strong 
representation in favor of the employment of an evangelist.. 
They came away silent, and the evangelist — was not invited. 
One of his strongest points was, his ability to control his 
temper, and remain silent under provocation, and not exhibit 
the least feeling. Only a few years after his settlement in 
Pittsfield, one of the members of his church rose in prayer- 
meeting and began to criticise the pastor very freely, blam- 
ing him severely, especially for his faults as a pastor. When 
he sat down, the room was as still as the grave. The pastor 
rose, and every one waited breathlessly for a stinging rejoin- 
der. But he merely asked, in a mild tone, but with a pecul- 
iar twinkle in his eye, " Has any other brother any remarks 
to offer?" and then, as the silence continued, gave out a 
cheerful hymn, to close the meeting. The wretched brother 
immediately and forever collapsed. "I don't like a quarrel, 
can't endure it ; and, when mad, I always clinch my teeth 
and draw my lips over them, and silently invoke the power 
of silence." He understood the use of this perfectly, and 
often confounded an opponent by declining to give him an 
opportunity for battle. In this he was aided by a natural 
slowness to perceive offense. He has been heard to complain 
that he never found out that he was insulted till it was too 



500 JOHN TODD. 

late to do any thing about it. And there was something in 
this. Too magnanimous to have any small spites himself, 
he could not at once understand them ; and an ill-natured 
remark simply surprised him. With reference to remarks 
made about himself, he often used to say that he did not 
care what people said about him, provided it icere not true. 

He was a remarkably social man, loved a large company, 
and delighted to talk with any one whom he met; and in 
society his ready wit, and cheerful humor, and love of anec- 
dotes, of which he had an exhaustless store, made him a 
great favorite, and gave him immense power. When in the 
right humor, he was the life of any company; but when he 
found himself with a few kindred spirits, of similar culture 
and taste and humor, then there was a perfect storm of sto- 
ries, and hits, and repartees, and outbursts of droll remark, 
which kept the company in a roar; and in which, whoever 
came off second-best, it was not Doctor Todd. 

He was remarkably happy in his after-dinner speeches, 
and his friends were often amazed by the outflow of thought 
and wit in one of his impromptu addresses. He used to say 
that he always said his best things when lie was called upon 
to serve as Jack-at-a-pinch. It was very difficult to get the 
advantage of him. One day a man came to him with a 
long account of wonders of spiritualism, which he had wit- 
nessed. Doctor Todd, who had a supreme contempt for 
spiritualism, listened patiently to the end, and then said, 
"Now, you wouldn't have believed these things if you hadn't 
seen them, would you ?" " No," was the emphatic reply, "I 
would notP " Well, then," rejoined the Doctor, quietly, "JT 
sha'n't till /see them." 

His humor was so spontaneous that it overflowed on the 
slightest occasion. Some years ago, there was a small 
weekly new r spaper published in Pittsfield called the Berk- 
shire County Whig, and in the very next building to the 
printing-office was a tailor's shop. Going into the tailor's 
shop one morning, and seeing a paper on the counter, he 
took it up, and, on seeing that it was a copy of the Whig, 
remarked to the tailor, with the utmost gravity, "Why, I 
wasn't aware that this paper had so wide a circulation!" 

His sense of the ridiculous was very keen, and he was 
quick to avail himself of an opportunity for an innocent 



DOCTOR TODD AT HOME. 501 

joke. In one of Ins journeys he wished to pass through the 
White Mountain Notch. The regular stage having gone, 
he hired a seat on a peddler's wagon which was going that 
way, and rode several miles, conversing with the peddler on 
the arts of his trade. Suddenly they met, at a watering- 
trough, one of the mountain-stages loaded down, within and 
without, with fashionable and dignified travelers. Not in 
the least disconcerted or embarrassed by the situation, he 
rose, and began to offer the peddler's wares for sale with 
such fluent wit that the whole stage-load was soon in a roar, 
the peddler meantime sitting by and grinning to see himself 
outdone. 

He would sometimes make a droll remark on a most sol- 
emn occasion — not from any intention to excite mirth, but 
from an involuntary ebullition of humor. One time, while 
conducting a union prayer-meeting, with the help of other 
pastors, he leaned over and whispered to the Methodist min- 
ister, "Call on your Methodist brethren to pray; for it takes 
my men forever to get hold ; and, when they get hold, it 
seems as though they would never let go." During his last 
sickness he was continually indulging in dry wit and tell- 
ing laughable stories; and even at nine o'clock on the very 
night that he died, when he could speak but two or three 
words at a time, and those indistinctly, he told an anecdote 
at which it was impossible not to smile, and chuckled at it. 

There is one respect in which this book will seem to give, 
and to some extent will give, an incorrect representation of 
the man. There can be no question that the prevailing tone 
of his mind and secret inner life was one of melancholy and 
pathos. His letters, especially the more striking and beau- 
tiful of them, and such as would naturally be selected for 
publication, were apt to be written under the influence of 
moods, and to reflect the tint of his state of mind as it was 
in its depths and when in solitude. The humor and fun 
which overflowed in his conversations, could they be remem- 
bered and fixed on paper, would relieve the impression made 
by his letters, and make this picture of him seem more like 
him, as he comes back to the memory. It should be borne 
in mind, however, that the sparkling conversations, having 
no record but in human memories, were necessarily soon 
lost; while the written thoughts and feelings remain per- 



502 JOHN TODD. 

petual monuments; even as the joyous dashing of the waves 
is lost a few yards from the shore, while the deep moan of 
the sorrow of the sea is heard far inland. It is to be con- 
sidered, too, that the ebullitions of humor were occasional, 
transient, and superficial, while the sadder feelings were the 
more abiding and the more profound ; in short, that the real 
character of the man, as of the sea, appears not so much in 
the laughing voices of the surface as in the under-tone of 
the deep. 

Wherever he went, he contrived to make acquaintance 
and get into conversation with some one ; and in these con- 
versations with strangers he aimed to find out what his man 
knew most about, and then to get all the information he 
could out of him by a rapid and ceaseless volley of questions. 
It was in this way that he acquired that immense store of 
practical knowledge which enabled him to write and speak 
intelligently, like Solomon, on all sorts of subjects, "from 
the cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop on the wall." One day, 
when he was on a steamer in European waters, a man came 
on board, accompanied by a great escort, saluted by cannon, 
and received with vast ceremony. He proved to be Wil- 
liam, Prince of Holland, uncle of the reiomin^ kins'. " Our 
passengers were many; and all, even his own suite, stood 
around the great man as if he had some disease which they 
were afraid of catching. After a while, as he seemed to 
stand alone in his greatness, I stepped up to him, and, lift- 
ing my hat a little, said, ' Does your excellency speak En- 
glish?' 'Yas, I does.' ' Perhaps, sir, you will not deem me 
obtrusive if I say I am an American traveler, and respect- 
fully ask you to read this letter of introduction from the 
American minister at London.' He took the letter and read 
it, and said, 'It is very satisfaction.' I then opened upon 
him, and talked incessantly for half an hour." And if in 
that half hour he did not learn something about the art of 
governing, it can only have been because the prince knew 
nothing about it. "I then drew off, saying to myself, 
'There, my good fellow, you see just, how much, and how 
little, republicans are afraid of royalty. If you want any 
thing more of me, it will be your turn to seek the interview.' 
We now became the two lions of the boat — he, because he 
was his royal highness, and I, because I had stood close to 



DOCTOR TODD AT HOME. 503 

him, and talked to him, as if I were at least his equal. So 
we walked, he on one side of the quarter-deck, and I on the 
other, till dark. To my surprise, and that of every body, 
the prince did seek several interviews with me ; and I had, 
I should think, two hours' conversation with him. The only 
time I could feel that he had human sensibilities was when, 
speaking of his daughter, I said, 'Ah, sir, a son is a thing to 
be proud of and to bear up our name, but a true daughter 
is a thing for a father's heart to love.' The tears came into 
his eyes." 

At another time he was traveling on a Halifax steamer. 
"Among the passengers was an English lord, who was fully 
conscious of his greatness. We overheard him talking on a 
subject in which we were a good deal interested ; and Doc- 
tor Todd politely asked a question, which he would not con- 
descend to answer. He tried again, with no better success. 
He then turned to me, and, with a merry twinkle of his eye, 
said, ' I'll make the fellow talk ; you see if I don't.' He then 
began to talk to me about his visit to England, his acquaint- 
ances in Parliament, his interviews with Lord Palmerston 
and other great men. The self-satisfied lord stopped and 
listened ; drew his chair a little nearer : pretty soon he said, 
'Excuse me, did I hear you say that you had the honor of 
knowing my Lord Palmerston ?' ' Slightly, sir ; slightly, 
sir. I have met some of your lords.' Then he went on talk- 
ing to me, as if wholly unconscious of the presence of his 
lordship. It was not long before he got all the information 
he wanted out of the man. In his humorous way he said, 
'I told you I'd pump the fellow dry.' " 

In the course of his many journeys he became the guest, 
and always a welcome guest, of a great number of families, 
from whom he experienced much kindness, and with many 
of whom he maintained a permanent friendship. But on 
his part, also, he was profuse in hospitalities. Multitudes of 
people were entertained at his house, from all parts of the 
world; and their presence and conversation were of great 
service to the children in laying a restraint upon their con- 
duct, accustoming them to good society, and giving them 
many ideas and much information. " We keep a public- 
house, though not a tavern," was a frequent saying of Doc- 
tor Todd ; and though he sometimes grew weary of waiting 

33 



504 JOHN TODD. 

on strangers, or groaned over the demands of such hospital- 
ity upon his purse, yet he really enjoyed it; "I do love to 
have a houseful." Not unfrequently his whole congrega- 
tion were invited to his house. Twice a year regularly, for 
many years, the young ladies from the Institute, a hundred 
or more in number, were entertained in the Doctor's par- 
lors, while smaller companies gathered there almost continu- 
ally. 

Those who came to the house as guests had to submit to 
a great deal of raillery and joking, all uttered in the gravest 
possible manner, unless for a twinkle in the eye. Those who 
knew him well, or were quick to detect fun, enjoyed it, and 
answered back with spirit; while those who were slow to 
take a joke sometimes had a hard time of it. There were 
some standard jokes about saving, in connection with eat- 
ing, and it was really feared sometimes that a poor wight 
refrained from eating as much as he wanted, out of consid- 
eration for the Doctor's "deep poverty." In the worst ex- 
tremities, Mrs. Todd had to interfere and beg her guests not 
to mind him; and then he would burst out laughing. On 
one occasion a hapless " agent " came to spend a Sunday at 
a time when the mistress of the household was sick. As the 
Doctor was showing him to his room at night, the guest ex- 
pressed his regret that he had chanced to come at a time 
when, as he feared, his presence was an inconvenience to 
the family. u Oh no," was the reply, " my daughters are old 
enough to look after things very well ; and then, you know," 
added he in a solemn tone, " you can make up your own 
bed in the morning." The next morning, when the girls 
went to the room, they found it in perfect order, and the bed 
neatly made. In great surprise they began to make in- 
quiries, and presently the joke, which the Doctor had for- 
gotten all about, came out. Of course explanations and 
apologies were made to the guest, who, on his part, was so 
much ashamed of his dullness, and of his share in the affair, 
that he begged that the story might never be told — a re- 
quest which is here strictly complied with. 

This disposition to make fun of every body, even his own 
wife and children, and all with the gravest countenance, 
sometimes led stupid people, and those who could not com- 
prehend a joke, or did not know him, to accuse him of 



DOCTOR TODD AT HOME. 505 

harshness and severity in his family, than which nothing 
could be more untrue or absurd. 

To all who came under Doctor Todd's roof he contrived 
to do some good. The very servants came in for a share of 
his thoughtful care. It was his practice to refuse, if possi- 
ble, to pay their wages in full, and to persuade them to let 
him deposit the balance in the savings-bank for them. The 
result was, that some of them acquired considerable property. 
Even when they left his family they continued to leave their 
money in his keeping, and from time to time brought ad- 
ditions to it, and persuaded their friends to do the same. 
Sometimes he had from a dozen to twenty of their bank- 
books. 

At different times there were many extra members of the 
family, children of friends elsewhere, sent to Pittsfield to 
get an education — young men in Williams or Yale College, 
spending their vacation here by invitation — young ladies 
exchanging long visits with the daughters — theological 
students reading with the Doctor. There was also, almost 
all the time, at least one of his wife's family permanently 
residing with him. All these were treated with the utmost 
kindness, and made to feel at home, subject to the same 
rules and restraints as the members of the family, and expe- 
riencing the same fatherly watchfulness and goodness. 

Although he had a multitude of friends everywhere, there 
were very few indeed, almost none, with whom he was so 
intimate as to open to them his heart, and real character, 
and inward life. He would laugh and talk familiarly with 
all, but when it came to real confidence he was singularly 
reserved. And it is a remarkable fact that, while ordinarily 
he was uncommonly shrewd at reading characters, yet in the 
choice of those whom he did partially admit to intimacy of 
friendship he was not always very wise. Some of them were 
by no means what he thought them, or even betrayed and 
disappointed him. It would seem that kindness shown him 
so kindled his gratitude as to blind his judgment; and his 
active imagination, in the hands of love, clothed the charac- 
ters of his friends with colors which they did not actually 
possess ; but he always saw them there. 

Doctor Todd was very fond of children, and, therefore, was 
always a great favorite with them. To his own children he 



506 JOHN TODD. 

was devoted. He liked nothing better than to frolic with 
them when they were little, and he loved to associate and 
talk with them as they grew older. In all his watching with 
them in their infancy, and walking the room with them in 
his arms, hour after hour, at night, after days of hard work, 
he was never heard to utter a word of impatience or com- 
plaint. As they grew older, they were allowed to play in 
his study, even while he was writing, so long as they did not 
become too boisterous ; and he was constantly planning and 
consenting to rides, picnics, excursions, journeys, etc., for the 
benefit and enjoyment of "the children," though he seldom 
found time to join in them. When he did, it was a treat, 
for he was the greatest boy of them all. He felt bound to 
take the more pains to provide innocent enjoyments for his 
children that they were deprived, by his principles, of enter- 
tainments that were generally considered harmless. It was 
an inflexible rule that, if the children went to a party, they 
must come home the moment that there was any dancing. 
This, of course, as the j^ractice became more and more gen- 
eral, amounted practically to exclusion from most of the 
gatherings of society. 

Once a year, usually on Thanksgiving - day or at New- 
year's — he was too good a Puritan to recognize Christmas 
— there was a grand interchange of presents, prepared and 
purchased with great secrecy and mystery for weeks before- 
hand, and opened in the presence of the assembled family. 
Doctor Todd used to say that he had himself had so hard 
a childhood, that he was determined that his own children 
should have every advantage and reasonable pleasure that 
he could give them. If he erred in his treatment of them, it 
was on this side. Yet he did not indulge them altogether; 
they were required, from a very early age, to take a part in 
"the chores" and household tasks, and were encouraged to 
earn their little spending-money. Each, too, had his or her 
quarterly allowance for clothing, and w r as obliged to gauge 
expenditures by its measure. The discipline of the family 
was chiefly moral ; for, although the father was a great ad- 
mirer and defender of Solomon's mode of government, he 
seldom resorted to it practically, and it was in his hands 
usually a failure. On one occasion, the writer of this, when 
a boy, had a slight disagreement with his parents at the 



DOCTOR TODD AT HOME. 507 

breakfast-table, which resulted in his being marched by the 
"united head of the family" into the study. Here, expos- 
tulation having proved useless, the mother retired into the 
yard in search of one of Solomon's correctives, while the fa- 
ther and child sat in moody silence. After the lapse of 
about five minutes the mother returned, with an expression 
of painful anxiety on her face, a tear in her eye, and an im- 
mense pea-brush, fully eight feet long, in her hand. At the 
sight of this fearful weapon a grin went around the whole 
party, and a good-humored capitulation was at once effected. 
From the very first the father took the greatest pains to 
improve and train the minds of the children. Even when 
the family were in Philadelphia, while the older children 
were still quite young, and while he was pressed beyond 
measure by his labors and anxieties there, he was full of de- 
vices for their improvement. One of these was the " Fam- 
ily Post-office." A large box of japanned tin with this in- 
scription, and with a lock and key, was procured and hung 
up in the hall, and the members of the family were encour- 
aged to write notes to each other. A postmaster was ap- 
pointed, who distributed the letters at a suitable hour every 
day ; and the father furnished paper for all, carefully cutting 
and folding it into small sheets of various sizes, for the day 
of small paper had not yet arrived. Here is a sample of 
one of the letters : 

" Dear John, — Don't miss of getting your piece done, 
ready for the trysting-time. I propose that we have the 
reading at five o'clock instead of six, and then have the tea, 
etc., afterward, at six o'clock; and then we shall all be ready 
to go to bed, or to our duties. Will you take the votes on 
it this noon ? Yours, J. T." 

The reference in this letter is to another institution, the 
"Family Tryst," the constitution of which is still pre- 
served. Under this institution, each member of the family 
was pledged to write " one original piece every month, and 
send it through the Family Post-office to the Reader, who 
was elected quarterly. A " tryst " was held once a month, 
at which these pieces were read ; and at the close of his term 
of office the Reader provided an entertainment. The young 



508 JOHtf TODD. 

gentleman to whom the above note was addressed, and who 
was exhorted to have his " piece " ready, and requested to 
" take the votes," was at that time just seven years old. 

The father took the greatest pains, also, to secure the best 
schools for the children, and was always ready to help them 
with their lessons, and sometimes rose in time to hear some 
of them recite before breakfast, by the whole winter togeth- 
er. "My one great ambition is to educate my children." 
Undoubtedly, in the ignorance which then prevailed, and 
still prevails, respecting the laws of health, his loving ambi- 
tion and solicitude urged them to exertions which in more 
than one instance produced disastrous consequences ; but 
he had the satisfaction of seeing all his children taking the 
very first rank at the institutions where they were severally 
educated, and some of them scholars of remarkable brilliance. 

In the love-affairs of his children he never interfered with 
a view to influencing any important decision ; and appeals 
to him elicited much sympathy, sometimes a clear setting- 
forth of arguments pro and con, but never much advice or 
expression of wish. "I am incompetent to advise much. 
The interests at stake are too great for human wisdom. If 
all things were right, and if one of my children should be 
located near me, it would be a joy to me; but the happiness 
of the child should never be imperiled by the wishes of the 
parent. It is a boat that, as a father, I would neither row 
nor back, if I could help it." 

The religious influences of the household were constant, 
but resulted more from a fixed order of religious habits than 
from any thing else. Every meal was begun with a " bless- 
ing," and ended with a returning of " thanks ;" and the chil- 
dren were expected to be present at the first, and not to 
leave the table till after the second. Immediately after 
breakfast and after supper came "family prayers." In the 
evening the exercises were limited to the reading of a chap- 
ter, and a prayer, by the father; but in the morning each 
member of the family had a Bible, and two chapters were 
read (one in each Testament), each person in turn reading 
two verses. From this duty neither visitors nor servants, 
if they could be persuaded to engage in the service, were ex- 
empt. By this reading of three chapters a day, the Bible 
was read entirely through in the family annually, for nearly 



DOCTOR TODD AT HOME. 509 

forty years. To be sure, there were some chapters, in Leviti- 
cus or Chronicles, that did not yield much fruit for childish 
understandings, nor was it altogether " edifying " when some 
buno-lino; servant made a ridiculous mistake — as when one 
of them read that the father of the prodigal son " ran, and 
fell on his neck, and — killed him ;" but wherein the reading 
lacked spiritual profit, the prayer did much more abound. 
Between the Scriptures and the prayer came, also, the sing- 
ing of a hymn, with an accompaniment on the piano or or- 
gan by one of the children. In this exercise the laboring 
oar fell to Mrs. Todd, who had a voice of uncommon sweet- 
ness. Most of the children were able to join with her; but 
the father was compelled to be silent, though he professed 
to enjoy the exercise, and probably did, and perhaps all 
the more that he could hardly tell one note or tune from 
another. 

The "Sabbath" always began at sunset on Saturday 
night, and ended at the next sunset ; and the school-tasks, 
and sewing, and secular reading, which were as strictly pro- 
hibited on Saturday evening as on Sunday, were allowed on 
Sunday evening. On Sunday the family were all expected 
to be at "meeting" and at Sunday-school, unless for special 
reasons ; and walking and visiting were not allowed. Only 
a cold lunch was served at noon, though at night there was 
a warm meal. Of course, the day was sometimes a weari- 
ness, and it was a matter of joy to the youngsters when 
"the Sabbath began to abate;" yet the permanent influ- 
ence of this puritanic severity seems to have been good, 
rather than evil, on every member of the family. The fam- 
ily prayers on Sabbath evening differed from the ordinary 
evening exercise. After the chapter, which was often omit- 
ted, each of the children recited a hymn, beginning with the 
youngest. In addition to this, the older children usually 
gave the answers to a certain number of questions in the 
Shorter Catechism. Then followed an examination of the 
children as to not merely the texts, but also the plans and 
lessons, of the sermons of the day. In this exercise, which 
tended to fix the instructions of the pulpit in the minds of 
the children, the examiner himself also often received some 
mortifying but helpful lessons as to the effect of his sermons, 
and the causes of their failure. On one occasion the father 



510 JOHN TODD. 

was sick, and the minister who had preached for him was 
present, when, without thinking that she had, like himself, 
not been out that day, he called upon one of the daughters 
for an account of the morning sermon. Whenever she hesi- 
tated, the questioner threw out a hint; but it soon became 
evident to all who had been at church that neither father 
nor daughter had heard the sermon, and meaning looks were 
exchanged among the other children. At last the brother 
minister could stand it no longer, and meekly suggested that 
that was not exactly the line of thought which he had pur- 
sued. " Never mind, brother G ," was the instant re- 
joinder, " that's the line that you ought to have pursued." 

Of direct conversation on the subject of personal religion 
there was almost nothing. Even when a child was seriously 
engaged in settling the great question of submission of the 
heart and will to God, there was very little said by any one. 
His advice to a friend was: 

"As to your daughters, I want you should allow me to 
drop you a hint. They do not, I will suppose, feel interested 
in religion, but the reverse. They have been given to Christ, 
and are the children of prayer. I would not say much to 
them at present on the subject. Don't worry them ; don't 
make them disgusted with religion by pressing it on them ; 
above all, don't reproach them for not being Christians. I 
think it the best way to let our children see by our exam- 
ple that we are conscientious, and that we act on Christian 
principle, or intend to do so, and that we are more anxious 
for their salvation than for any thing else. At the same 
time, they are easily disgusted by any thing like force, and I 
feel that, while we can not pray too much for them, we had 
better be very cautious about talking to them. Somebody 
else can speak to them to better advantage than parents or 
near friends. You will excuse me for the hint ; I know how 
anxious you feel for them. I give you the results of my ob- 
servation and experience. But I should be sorry to have 
you receive the impression that I consider my hints as in- 
fallible, or my family as a perfect model." 

Whether the course which he pursued is the best in all 
cases, or not, he lived to see all his children and children-in- 
law members of the church of God, and two of them pass 
away with more than ordinarily bright Christian hopes. 



DOCTOR TODD AT HOME. 511 

It will readily be seen that in such a position, and with 
such a family, and with such labors and responsibilities upon 
him, he was necessarily very dependent for his success upon 
his wife. His obligations to this " wonderful woman," as 
she was considered by all who knew her, who cheerfully 
sacrificed great beauty, brilliant powers of mind, and un- 
usual social gifts, to the servitude of the care of a great fam- 
ily of a poor minister, and the work of helping forward her 
husband's success, keeping herself in the background, and 
toiling day and night the servant of all, he recognized and 
acknowledged as fully as any one. He was always joking 
and laughing about his obligations to his wife, and his obe- 
dience to her; but at suitable times he spoke of what she 
had done for him in more serious language. He often en- 
deavored to impress upon his children how much he and 
they owed to her. In his last sickness, he told one of them 
that, in looking back, the one thing which he regretted above 
all others was, that " mother " had had so hard a life. In 
his historical sermon, delivered in the last year of his life, he 
took occasion to make a beautiful and fitting public acknowl- 
edgment of what all his hearers knew to be the truth : 

"And here I want to say emphatically, that if ever I have 
accomplished any thing, ever avoided mistakes, ever in any 
degree honored the Master, I greatly attribute it to an influ- 
ence which men are not always prompt to acknowledge. In 
my home has been a life swallowed up in my success, will- 
ing to be unknown and out of sight; unwearied in giving 
encouragement and arousing to effort ; prompt and cheerful 
in concealing my defects and in covering my deficiencies; 
kind to apologize for what could not be approved; uncom- 
plaining when worn down by heavy burdens such as few are 
called to bear; more than ready to be unselfish and to wear 
out, that others might profit by my labors. I say that it is 
there, in that life, I have found the source and the cause 
of all I have done. O wife of my youth ! 'Many daughters 
have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.'" 

Of demonstrations of affection between the parents there 
were very few. The titles by which they addressed one an- 
other were always the formal and distant ones, "Mr. Todd," 
"Mrs. Todd;" nor did their many and different duties per- 
mit them to enjoy much of each other's society ; yet it was 



512 JOHN TODD. 

well understood that there existed between them deeper and 
more tender feelings than appeared in the ordinary inter- 
course of the family. Occasionally the husband's letters, 
when he was absent, would contain a sentence of peculiar 
affection ; and the writer of this ventures to lift the veil that 
hangs before the sacred inner life of the subject of this 
sketch, by presenting a letter which has accidentally fallen 
into his hands, written to the wife on her sixty-fourth birth- 
day: 

" My ever dear Wife, — It seems to be so ordered by 
Divine Providence that I must be absent from you, the 
third time in succession, on your birthday. I was in hopes 
that it would not so happen again ; for, as our friends and 
acquaintances fall off and leave us, and as I feel sensible that 
the years we can hope to be together here are growing to 
be few, you become more and more the centre where my af- 
fections gather, and every day become more dear to me. It 
is my duty, and, I know, your wish, that I should be trou- 
bled by your absence as little as may be ; yet I am sure you 
would feel sad and sorrowful could you look down deep into 
my heart, and see how completely you are enshrined there, 
and how little of life or of joy there is left to me when you 
are away. The days seem long, the sombre becomes more 
so, and the gildings of sunshine are few, when you are not 
with me. And yet, my dear one, I am cheerful, for I feel 
that you are to recover, and again bring light and gladness 
to my home ; and, as the loved companion of my bosom, and 
the honored mother of my children, you are to return in ren- 
ovated health and bless us all. 

" Since you have been gone, I have sj)ent many hours, of 
course, alone; and I have been living over the past, and re- 
calling the blessings and mercies of my life ; and I assure 
you that to me you have been a greater blessing, and a deeper 
joy, than all other things put together. It would hardly 
meet your wishes, I think, for me to go into confessions of 
my unworthiness ; but this I will say, that, had I been ten- 
fold a better friend and husband than I have been, it would 
have been nothing more than I owed you. I can't imagine 
that I should have been any thing, or done any thing, with- 
out you to aid and guide me ; and the little I have done, I 



DOCTOR TODD AT HOME. 513 

feel, in my very soul, has been owing more to you than to 
myself. No woman can desire a profounder homage than I 
bestow upon my own dear wife, or to be enshrined more 
deeply in the heart of her husband than are you. God bless 
you and reward you, my own dear Mary, for all that you 
have been to me thus far; and, whether we may walk hand 
in hand together much longer or not, we will fervently pray 
that we may hereafter never be separated. Don't worry 
yourself to try to answer this birthday note. I will not 
doubt that you would say even more than I wish, and very 
far more than I deserve. You must not, either, doubt my 
sincerity when I ask you to forgive all the frailties and un- 
worthiness you have seen in me during the thirty -seven 
years of our married life, and to let them come out on the. 
leaflets of memory as seldom as may be. 

" I subscribe myself, dearest wife, by the dearest word I 
know how to use, your own affectionate and grateful 

" Husband. 

"This, of course, is suitable only for your own eye — then 
to be destroyed." 

The home which he had created was all the dearer to him 
that during the whole of the earlier part of his life, until 
his marriage, he had never known a home ; and it became 
dearer and dearer to him as the years rolled away. He al- 
ways left it with regret, pined for it in his absence, and 
hastened to it as soon as he could. It was a trial to him to 
have his children leave it even for a little while. It was a 
deep sorrow to him whenever one of them left it to form a 
new home elsewhere. And it was a joy to him to welcome 
them back with all their little ones, with a love enlarging as 
the circle of his ties. 

And, on their part, is it wonderful that they loved that 
home, and almost worshiped him f At the first intimation 
that he might be entering the shadow of eternity, from 
homes modeled as nearly as might be after his, and from 
positions of importance and responsibility, near and far, 
even from across the continent of Europe, they hastened to 
his side, to hang over him night and day, ministering to his 
wants, and listening to his latest words of love and counsel. 
At the last, all his children, and his children only, stood 



514 JOHN TODD. 

around him ; and from the most sacred spot in that home 
which his love and character and prayers had hallowed — 
with his children's voices fainting on his ear in words of 
divine promise — with his last look resting, as he had wished 
it might, on the face that was as beautiful to him then as 
when it first smiled upon him long ago, he went up to our 
"Father's house," "not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens." 



SAILING AWAY. 515 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

SAILING AWAY. 

Sickness. — The old Maple.— An after-dinner Speech. — The last Preaching. — 
A Letter of Sympathy. — The last Funeral. — His Piece ready. — The last 
Letter. — A Kequest for Prayers. — A distressing Sickness. — Anxiety of the 
People. — Longing to Live. — No Light from Beyond. — Thoughtfulness for 
Others. — Midnight Talks. — Among the Crags. — The Consolations of God. 
— A striking Prayer. — Interview with the young Pastor. — Message to the 
People. — A little Child at the Door.— A Desire to depart.— Saturday Night. 
— The Messenger. — Last Words.— Sleep. — Sabbath Morning. — The Funeral. 

" May 29th, 1873. 
"My dear John, — I have been quite sick since last Sat- 
urday — one night, a doctor all night. Better now. 

"Father." 

For several months he had been in the habit of accepting 
invitations to supply vacant pulpits far and near; partly 
because he could not bear to give up his loved occupation, 
and partly because he deemed it wise to be absent a good 
deal from his old flock while they were hearing candidates, 
and making the acquaintance of their new pastor and learn- 
ing his ways. On the 25th of this month he was to preach 
in Westfield, Massachusetts, and accordingly had taken the 
cars for that place the evening previous. In the night he 
was taken suddenly and violently sick. The friend with 
whom he was staying promptly sent for a physician, and 
after a time the patient was so much relieved that it was 
thought safe for him to preach the next day. It was with 
difficulty, however, that he fulfilled his engagement ; and 
early on Monday morning he returned home. For a num- 
ber of days he suffered much, and was on the bed much of 
the time ; yet he did not give up entirely, but after a few 
days fancied that he was enough better to attend to his va- 
rious engagements. 

Accordingly, on the 4th of June he went down to Bos- 
ton, with a son-in-law, to attend the annual meeting of the 
Massachusetts Medical Society. He had been invited to be 



516 JOHN TODD. 

present at the dinner, and to respond to a sentiment. To 
this invitation he had sent the following reply: 

" My dear Doctor, — Just as I was leaving home yester- 
day morning your letter was put into my hands. You doc- 
tors have such power of drawing, with blisters, forceps, and 
the pen, that one feels powerless when he has fairly fallen 
into your hands. Your invitation is so kind, and your So- 
ciety is so deservedly honored, that my vanity feels quite 
flattered, and, contrary to my wisest doubts, I think I must 
accept; and you will let me know the day, the hour, and 
the place, and, also, have very low expectations. Can the 
old maple that has been tapped for nearly half a century 
cause sap to flow as sweet and as abundant as in its fresh 
prime? Don't even pills harden and lose their virtue by 
age? My best bow to the lady who has undertaken the 
task of making you a polished jewel." 

Of the speech, Dr. De W , who had sent the invitation, 

writes: 

" He was received with immense enthusiasm by the one 
thousand delegates present ; and President E , of Har- 
vard, beside whom he sat at the table, spoke of his twenty 
minutes' talk as one of the most delightful dinner -table 
speeches to which he had ever listened." 

Not even the keenest-eyed of all the physicians that list- 
ened to that brilliant speech detected that the speaker was 
even then in the agonies of a mortal disease, and was only 
sustained by powerful restoratives which no man in health 
could have endured. 

After his return from Boston he still endeavored to keep 
at work, though suffering distressingly. He preached one 
Sunday, and for the last time, in the South Church. He 
also dragged himself from his bed to attend the funeral of 
a young wife and mother who had suddenly been called 
away — the daughter of one of his earliest parishioners and 
friends. On hearing of her death, he wrote the following to 
her father : 

To T.F. P . 

"June 18th. 

"My dear afflicted Friend, — My heart in its fullness 
goes out to yours and you. I am held down on my bed for 



SAILING AWAY. 517 

to-day, but if I can be of any comfort to you, I will get up 
and come to you. O Sarah ! Sarah ! How all the past 
rushes upon me ! Her beautiful childhood, her high schol- 
arship, her being with my Sarah in Philadelphia at school, 
her high promise all the way to the very last— nay, I go 
back still, to the sickness and death and burial of her noble 
mother. 

"Ah me ! If I have so much to recall, what must be the 
images of the past rushing through your memory ! I feel 
almost ashamed to offer you my best, most earnest sympa- 
thy, it is so inferior to what you need. I pray that the Di- 
vine Comforter — 'a very present help in time of trouble ' — 
may come to you, and sustain and bless you all. 

"You need not try to make any reply to this, unless I can 
be of any comfort by coming to you ; in which case I will 
put on my clothes and come. May the God of all grace and 
consolation bless you ! Weeping with those that weep, I 
am, dear sir, yours ever. 

" How small this world is becoming ! How bright the 
next life !" 

This funeral was the last occasion of his appearance in 
public. 

He had long been under engagement to deliver an ad- 
dress before the Society of Inquiry at Amherst College, and 
also before the society of the same name at Andover Theo- 
logical Seminary, at their respective commencements. These 
appointments he was, on various accounts, particularly de- 
sirous of fulfilling. So earnest was he, that, while confined 
to his bed, he composed, wrote out, and laboriously copied, 
in pencil, the address which he expected to deliver. 

It was not till the last moment that he sent the following 
letter : 

To Rev. Doctor T [in pencil], 

"June 26th. 

"Up to the present time I have been hoping to be able 
to come to Amherst, indeed I have my l piece ' all written ; 
but it is now nearly three weeks since I have been on my 
back and in bed ('sub-acute inflammation of the bowels'), 
and the wisdom of three doctors, consulting yesterday, has 
decided that I can't go out, even if I get up, in season 
to prevent my great disappointment in not being able to 



518 JOHN TODD. 

meet with you, and again see the college whose history you 
have so faithfully and beautifully written." 

To John [in pencil]. 

"June 30th. 
" Four weeks ago last Saturday, away from home, I was 
attacked with violent colic. With a doctor, and a watcher, 
and terrible measures, I got home, and have since been on 

my back all the time I have had all the best doctors 

in town to consult ; and, in addition, they called in Doctor 
A , of Philadelphia, who stands very high up the lad- 
der I don't try to sit up, and I couldn't if I did. What 

the result will be, God only knows Love to all. God 

bless you all. Yours ever. Father." 

This was his last letter. 

It was now evident to all his friends, and to himself also, 
that his condition was becoming critical. As soon as he be- 
gan to realize this, he felt a strong desire to have the people 
of God pray for him. Accordingly, one Saturday evening 
he dictated the following note, which was sen J the next 
morning to every pulpit in town : 

"Rev. Doctor Todd, having come to that border land 
which lies in a deep valley before we reach the New Jeru- 
salem, and where he waits in entire uncertainty to know 
whether he is longer to dwell under the light of the sun of 
earth, or whether he may soon expect the full-orbed rising 
of the Sun of righteousness upon him ; in either case he de- 
sires your prayers that, whatever may be the will of God, 
his soul may rejoice in it, and that his sins unnumbered may 
be all taken away by ' the Lamb of God which taketh away 
the sin of the world.' " 

The children had now all arrived, with the exception of 
one who was in Europe, and who, by making great exertions, 
returned in time to be with him for a few days. He said, a 
little while before his death, that when he saw all his chil- 
dren thus permitted to gather around him, he felt that the 
end had come. 

His sickness was, throughout, a very distressing one, at- 
tended with great pain, which was only quieted by powerful 
opiates. From the first he felt unable to see his friends: 
very few of them, therefore, were admitted to his room, and 



SAILING AWAY. 519 

his family took the entire care of him. Meantime, a cloud 
seemed to settle down upon the whole town. It was touch- 
ing to see the universal anxiety of the people to know how 
he was. Inquiries were constantly made at the door ; no 
member of the family could appear in the street without 
being assailed with questions from all classes of people, 
down to the little children; and when the discouraging re- 
ply was given, strong men often shed tears, and poor Irish- 
men remarked that the poor were losing their best friend. 

One of the most distressing things about his sickness was 
his intense desire to live. For a while he did not give up 
to the disease at all : when compelled to keep his bed, he still 
persisted in literary labor; he took his medicines with great 
perseverance, often calling for them before the time and 
swallowing them with determination, even when he felt that 
they hurt him, and taking nourishment when it required the 
greatest effort to do so. He knew that he was battling with 
disease, and was resolved to contest the battle to the ut- 
most. The uncertainty of all the physicians as to the pre- 
cise nature of the disease afforded him room to hope. He 
was inclined to take courage from their slightest remarks; 
and sometimes when some one seemed about to repeat some- 
thing that they had said, he would turn his face toward 
the speaker with such a wistful look of a child as was pain- 
ful to see. 

It was not, apparently, because he was afraid to die, that 
he thus longed to live ; he contemplated the possibility of 
death, and arranged his affairs with reference to it, with en- 
tire composure. But it was the shrinking of the strong man 
from dissolution ; it was the desire to accomplish work 
which he had marked out for himself and felt able to do ; it 
was the natural reluctance of one who had much life, and 
enjoyed his life, his home, his friends, and his work intensely, 
to leave all; and it was the drawing-back from the future 
of one who had always been too full of thought and action 
with reference to his work in this world to be able to make 
the scenes of another world seem realities to him. 

On this last point he was greatly troubled — not so much, 
apparently, on his own account as because of the effect of 
his state of mind upon others. "It is bad," he would say, 
" to have the future so dark ; these unconverted men to 

34 



520 JOHN TODD. 

whom I have been preaching so long will feel curious to 
know how the Gospel that I have set before them supported 
me in the hour of trial. It is terrible for the old soldier to 
die so." What he wanted seemed to be not calmness and 
confidence, these he had ; but clear, bright, triumphant vis- 
ions of heaven. Accordingly, there was nothing that he 
prayed for more fervently or more frequently than "light 
from the other world." Sometimes he felt sure that he 
should have it, and then again he would feel discouraged. 
"I have not had ecstatic emotions," said he near the last, 
" and I have ceased to look for them." 

Notwithstanding his consciousness of his critical condi- 
tion, and his dissatisfaction with his own mental state, he 
was often, when not too much under the influence of opiates, 
exceedingly pleasant, and even humorous, in conversation, in- 
terested in every thing that was talked about, and thought- 
ful of the comfort of all about him. He never asked for any 
thing without adding, "If you please," or, " If you are not 
too tired," and made many apologies for the trouble that he 
was giving, and never allowed his watchers to depart with- 
out his thanks and blessings. Through all his sickness, his 
mind was not disturbed in the least, except when beclouded 
with opiates. On one occasion, when the writer wished to 
make a slight alteration in his bedstead for his greater com- 
fort, he told the precise shelf in his workshop, and the num- 
ber in the shelf, where each needed tool would be found. It 
was at night that he seemed most inclined to talk. Then 
he would speak of his early days, his later experiences, the 
doctrines that he had preached, his religious feelings, his 
wishes for his family, and the various interests of his chil- 
dren, in a way that made the watchers feel that theirs was 
a precious privilege. " Never were his views clearer, or his 
thoughts grander. It was an intellectual and spiritual feast 
to be with him. I never read, nor heard, nor imagined such 
lofty views of God's greatness and majesty. He seemed to 
be drawing nearer and nearer the burning glory; sometimes 
he would break out in the language of David, 'As the hart 
panteth after the water-brook, so panteth my soul after thee, 
O God.' Then he would turn his thoughts to death, and, 
just as he had been accustomed to prepare for his journeys, 
calmly and coolly made all the arrangements for his own 



SAILING AWAY. 521 

funeral, even to the clothing in which his body should "be 
dressed, and the places which the bearers should severally 
take at his coffin." 

In these midnight talks there was one illustration of his 
feelings which he used several times. " I seem," said he, 
" to be away up on the dark mountain-side, climbing weari- 
ly and painfully among the rocks and crags. Down below 
me there is a beautiful, peaceful river; and it seems as 
though, if I could only get down to it, I should find rest, 
and see the light shining over from the other side. But I 
climb and climb, and can not get down to it. Some day, 
perhaps, I shall get down to the river, and then — I shall sail 
aicay!" 

At one time he said, "I want to take hold on God, to 
embrace the Saviour, to feel the everlasting arms under- 
neath me." On another night he repeated several times, as 
if particularly struck with it, the Scriptural phrase, " The 
consolations of God ! the consolations of God !" Many 
times he was overheard murmuring the line, "But what 
must it be to be there !" And once he was heard offering 
the following prayer: "O Lord, have mercy upon me! O 
Strength, pity weakness ! O Light, pity darkness ! O Right- 
eousness, pity sin !" 

One evening he sent for his successor to come and pray 
with him. The following is the substance of what he said 
to him : 

"My dear fellow, I am glad to see you. I have been here 
ten weeks. My physicians have not allowed me to see any 
one. I sent for you, because I wanted to say a word or two, 
and have you pray with me. I had hoped to battle through 
it. I have a strong, iron constitution that fights my disease 
at every step. It is the oak resisting the strokes. But I 
am growing weaker, and I don't know how long I can stand 
it. The Lord's will be done. So much for my physical con- 
dition. And now with regard to my religious state : God 
seems to me like a great spiritual dome, covering with 
almighty power, infinite wisdom, and eternal love, creation 
and providence and salvation and time and eternity, all 
things — and me also; and I am willing to be anywhere 
where it will be most for his glory : I am in his hands. I 
look upon Christ as the complete, almighty, infinite Saviour, 



522 JOHN TODD. 

who brings us to God. I have perfect trust in him, and 
know that he will save unto the uttermost. He is my Sav- 
iour. I regard the Holy Spirit as the divine, infinite Spirit 
of God, to enlighten, direct, and renew us in this life. What 
he is in the next world, I don't know. My confidence in 
God is strong. I can commit all to him. But the clouds 
of sickness and opiates are so thick, that I do not yet have 
the light of the other world. I had hoped that I should 
have it before I died. I shall, if it is God's will. I leave 
all to him." 

On the next Sunday evening he sent to his people the 
following message: "Tell them that I am too weak to say 
what I want to, and that I do not trust much to the experi- 
ences of a sick-bed when the mind is clouded with opiates. 
Tell them that I have the strongest confidence in the Gospel 
I have so long preached and the firmest faith in it. But 
tell them that I have more than the Gospel — I have God ; 
and I am willing that he should place me where I shall glo- 
rify him most. Tell them that I have unwavering faith in 
Christ and his salvation, and that I am waiting and hoping 
for light from the eternal world. I want to see that light, 
and think I shall. 'Though I walk through the valley of 
the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.' And so, I stand 
at the gate, like a little child, waiting for it to open and give 
me a glimpse of the glory." 

Long-continued suffering at last wore out his wish to live, 
and he began to have a desire to depart. He seemed to be 
afraid that he should live so long as to wear out all his fam- 
ily. Once he asked if it would be wrong for him to pray 
that he might die within a certain time. 

On the Saturday evening preceding Sunday, the 24th of 
August, his children hesitated about separating, as for two 
or three days he had seemed to be dying, and that evening 
he was particularly feeble. It was about midnight when 
the messenger drove rapidly to their various temporary 
homes to summon them. As they arrived, he recognized 
and spoke to each one, but was in too much distress to talk. 
Once, on waking from sleep, he exclaimed, in a bright, happy, 
delighted but natural tone, " Everlasting love ! everlasting 
love!" His wife said, " That is a good word," and repeated 
the verse, 



SAILING A WAT. 523 

" The arms of everlasting love 
Beneath my soul he placed, 
And on the Rock of Ages set 
My slippery footsteps fast." 

One of the children also repeated the Scripture, " I have 
loved thee with an everlasting love." He would seem to 
drowse, but woke frequently, always repeating the same 
words, " Everlasting love ! everlasting love !" On being 
asked whether he would like to have some one offer a short 
prayer, he assented, and seemed to follow it. Many texts 
were repeated to him: "Though I walk through the valley 
of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil;" "For I am per- 
suaded that neither death nor life, nor any other creature, 
shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which 
is in Christ Jesus our Lord." In answer to a question, he 
said, "I have hope:" and on some one's repeating the text, 
" Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul," he assented 
decidedly. One of the children whispered, "Father, I wish 
I were going with you !" and he replied, " I wish you were, 
my child." Said another, "To-day shalt thou be with me 
in paradise." The assurance that he was so soon to be re- 
leased seemed to give him a pleasant surprise ; for he lifted 
his face, and said, in the tone of a delighted child, " To-day?" 
" Yes," was the reply, " this very day." And another added, 
" And it is the Sabbath : you will go on Sabbath morning." 
After a short sleep, he roused suddenly, and exclaimed, in 
a clear, strong, triumphant voice, which could be heard all 
through the house, " Glory ! glory ! glory !" His wife asked, 
"Do you see that glory?" He said, "Yes." "Is it the 
glory which you have been wanting to see?" He replied, 
"Yes." Some one repeated the text, "At evening-time it 
shall be light ;" and added, •" Do you see that light ?" Again 
he answered, " Yes." After a little while he broke out in 
the same clear, natural voice, " Glory !" But now the clouds 
of pain and distress and dissolution began to settle down 
deeper and darker upon him, and he could do little but 
groan, and exclaim, " Oh, mercy ! mercy ! Oh, my dear chil- 
dren ! mercy ! mercy !" In a few moments he slept. For 
two or three hours we sat and watched him in silence. At 
last, when it was nearly six o'clock, a change was detected 
in his breathing. In a moment all were gathered close 



524 JOHN TODD. 

about him. Shorter and shorter came the breath, at longer 
and longer intervals. It was but for a few moments. Morn- 
ing — not the joyous, noisy morning of spring, but the quiet, 
serene, and still morning of the late summer and the harvest 
— was flooding the sky with glory, and the earth, from 
mountain to mountain, with beauty, and the peace and calm 
of the Christian Sabbath. But for him a holier Sabbath was 
dawning over a better country; for the gates of eternal 
morning had lifted up their heads, and the everlasting doors 
had given way; and the little child, who had so long stood 
before them waiting for a glimpse of the glory, had entered 
in. The poor climber among the crags had got down to the 
peaceful river at last, and, over its black waters broadening 
into amber and gold, out of the darkness into the light, had 
— sailed away ! 



APPENDIX I. 

The name Todd is an altered form of the Scotch word tod, which 
means fox. With a single exception, the Todds have all come from 
the Highlands of Scotland. 

" The original name of the Irish Todds was O'Shauagh, which is 
Irish for fox. In consequence of an early English Parliament, which 
compelled the Irish to assume English names, the family changed 
its name, the Leinster branch taking the name Fox, and the north- 
ern, Todd, or Wolfson, corrupted into Wilson." It appears from 
this that a portion of the Irish Todds are of Irish origin. All other 
Todds are Scotch. 

They have come to this country by three different channels. 
First, there are the Scotch Todds, who have come directly from 
Scotland. There have been several distinct immigrations of this 
kind. One of the most important of them was that of Adam Todd, 
who arrived in New York near the beginning of the last century, 
still wearing the kilt and the tartan. His descendants have inter- 
married with the Brevoorts, the Astors, the Sedgwicks, and other 
old and distinguished families of New York. 

Next, there are the Irish Todds, a part of whom came originally 
from Scotland. In the early part of the last century, Hugh Todd 
came from County Antrim, and settled on wild lands in the interior 
^of Pennsylvania, whence his descendants spread into New Jersey, 
Carolina, Georgia, and Kentucky. It was into a branch of this 
Irish stock that President Abraham Lincoln married, Mrs. Lincoln 
being the great-granddaughter of Robert Todd, who was a native 
of Pennsylvania, and a general in the Revolutionary army. 

Lastly, there are the English Todds, who have come to this coun- 
try by way of England, where they have been known at least so far 
back as the eleventh century. Upon their entrance into England, 
some of the Todds seem to have retained their Scotch name, while 
others exchanged it for its English equivalent. Hence the Todds 
and the Foxes belong to the same stock, and have always borne the 
same arms. The Todds seem to have settled first in Yorkshire, 
where the name is common to this day. There was a John Todde, 
who was high sheriff of York in 1390 ; and also a Sir William Tod, 
who was high sheriff in 1477, and lord mayor ten years later. Till 
within comparatively recent times, there were two inscriptions in 
preservation on the walls of York, which the antiquary Leland thus 



526 APPENDIX I. 

describes, " Under a piece of indifferent sculpture of a senator in his 
robes and a woman kneeling by him, '■A. Bom. M. CCCC.L.XXXVII. 
Sir William Tod mair jou-ates some tyme mas schyriffe did this cost 
himself." 1 Near this, on a table under the city's arms, is 'A Domini 

M.GGGC.L.XXXVII. Sir William Tod, Knight L Mayre this 

wal was mayde in his dayes Ix yerdys." 1 " Among the more eminent 
of the Yorkshire Todds was Rev. Robert Todd, a dissenting min- 
ister of Leeds. Among other notices of him, it is chronicled that 
during the Great Plague " he preached repeatedly and impressively 
on Hezekiah's boil." There was also a Sir William Todd, who was 
high sheriff of York under Charles I., in 1625. 

There are in this country three distinct families of Yorkshire 
Todds. One of these sprung from an ancestor of unknown name, 
who settled in Virginia, whence his descendants have spread into 
Kentucky. Thomas Todd, associate justice of the United States 
Court, was one of them. He married the widow of Major George 
Washington (a nephew of General George Washington), and sister 
of Mrs. President Madison. James Madison Todd, of Frankfort, 
Kentucky, is a son of Justice Todd, as was also Colonel C. S. Todd, 
aid to General Harrison, and the first minister of our Government to 
the United States of Colombia. 

The second family sprung from John Todd, who came to Charles- 
town, Massachusetts, in 1637, and two years later settled in Rowley. 
His antecedents are not yet discovered, except that he came from 
Yorkshire. The Rowley Todds are found in Massachusetts, Ver- 
mont, and the West, and have furnished a general in the Revolu- 
tionary army, and many men of ability and distinction. 

The third family sprung from Christopher Todd, who was one of 
the original settlers of the New Haven colony, in Connecticut, in 
1639. He came from Pontefract, West Riding, Yorkshire. The 4 
register of the old parish church in Pontefract is still in existence, 
and contains the records of the marriage of William Todd and Isa- 
bel Rogerson, the grandparents, and William Todd and Katharine 
Ward, the parents of Christopher. William Todd the younger 
" was killed in a sort of duel," when his son Christopher was but a 
child; and Christopher was but about twenty years old when, with 
his wife, Grace Middlebrook, he joined the New Haven colony. 
Here he became a farmer, miller, and baker. He seems to have 
been at first one of the less prominent of the colonists. He signed 
the " General Agreement " modestly, with his mark, and quietly 
took his allotment in the "Yorkshire quarter;" and when the 
"meeting-house" was "dignified," he had his place assigned him, 
not in one of the honorable " midle seates," but in the " third side 
seate," though "Sister Tod" — for they worshiped in those days 
" the men apart and their wives apart " — was a little more fortunate. 

It was not long, however, before Christopher Todd began to make 



APPENDIX I. 527 

another kind of mark. He bought a grist-mill, which the town had 
built where Whitney's gun factory now stands ; and it was long 
known as " Todd's mill." The records of the ik General Court " 
show that he was continually adding to his real estate. He even 
rose to the dignity of a " viewer of fences." In 1650, he bought an 
acre and a half on Elm Street, in the more aristocratic " London 
quarter," on a part of which St. Thomas's Church now stands, and 
occupied a house on the eastern part of it. This ground, known in 
after-times as " the Blue Meeting-house Lot," remained in the family 
for nearly a hundred years. 

Christopher died at a good old age, leaving a will which is a 
model for sense and wisdom. He had three sons and three daugh- 
ters, of whom the whole earth around, and in distant states, has 
been overspread. 

Of the daughters, Mercy, the eldest, married John Bassett, and 
became the mother of a large family. Grace, the second, seems to 
have been mentally deficient, and, though married, was soon de- 
serted by her husband, and was specially provided for in her father's 
will, as "incompetent to take care of herself or any estate." Mary, 
the youngest daughter, was married to Isaac Turner, son of Captain 
Nathaniel Turner, " the right arm of the New Haven colony," who 
afterward perished in the "Phantom Ship."* Her husband's sister 
Mary was the wife of Thomas Yale, the mother of Elihu Yale, the 
founder of Yale College. 

Of the sous, each became the head of a large branch of the family. 
The descendants of Samuel, the second son, have been the most 
numerous. One of these was Rev. Samuel Todd, the impulsive but 
able first pastor of the North Parish in Waterbury, Connecticut. 
Another was Rev. Abraham Todd, who was for forty years pastor 
of the West Church, at Horseneck, Greenwich, Connecticut, which 
stood on the hill afterward made famous by Putnam's desperate 
ride. Many amusing stories are told of this simple-minded but re- 
spected preacher. 

" Although a general favorite throughout the whole of his minis- 
try, he may have had some, though few, enemies. It is related that, 
during his ministry, many of his hearers were outspoken men, even 
expressing themselves publicly, during worship, as to the merits or 
demerits of the doctrines advanced. Among this class of persons 
was one Palmer, who was present during the service on an occa- 
sion when an Indian missionary preached to Mr. Todd's congrega- 
tion. He preached fluently, and, we presume, well ; and so great an 

* A large ship sailed from the colony for England, with a number of pas- 
sengers, and was never heard of again. Some time afterward the pious and 
superstitious colonists beheld the image of a great ship under full sail in 
the sky, and interpreted the mirage as a message from God, indicating the 
fate of the unfortunate vessel. 



528 APPENDIX I. 

impression did his logic and eloquence make upon Palmer, that at 
the close of the sermon he exclaimed, with great vehemence, ' Let's 
swap Todd, and buy the Injin : he does a good deal the best.' Mr. 
Todd himself was present on the occasion." The length of his pas- 
torate, however, is a sufficient guarantee of his ability as well as his 
excellence of character. 

Another preacher of this line of descent, whose worth is estab- 
lished by similar evidence, was Rev. Ambrose S. Todd, D.D., rector 
for nearly forty years of St. James's Church, in Stamford, Conn. 
His father before him had been a clergyman of the Episcopal Church, 
and he inherited more than the abilities, and succeeded to more 
than the reputation and influence, of his father. In all branches of 
the family in every generation the Todds have been inclined to the 
ministry, and have risen to eminence in the clerical profession 
more than in any other, unless the medical. To the line of Samuel 
Todd, however, belong George Todd, late Judge of the Supreme 
Court of Ohio, with his son, the ex-governor of the same State ; also, 
Edward Todd, of New York city, who has won fame, not by his pen, 
but by his pens. The descendants of Michael, the youngest son of 
Christopher Todd, have also been very numerous. Like the de- 
scendants of the other sons, they have been mostly farmers. One of 
them, S. Edwards Todd, is well known in our own day as a writer 
on agriculture. Another descendant of this line, in a former genera- 
tion, was Doctor Eli Todd, of Farmington, Conn., who was one of 
the founders of the Retreat for the Insane at Hartford, and acquired 
celebrity in connection with it. Ex -Governor James E. English is 
also a descendant of a female branch of this line. 

The descendants of John, the eldest son of Christopher Todd, 
continued for a time to till the paternal acres at New Haven; but 
at length one of his grandsons, named Jonathan, feeling the heredi- 
tary ministerial impulse, was graduated at Yale College in 1732, and 
ordained in the fall of the following year, when scarcely twenty 
years old, " having that part of the Church of Christ committed 
unto me which is in East Guilford," now Madison. His pastorate 
continued for more than half a century. He was, naturally, accom- 
panied in his migration from New Haven by his younger and only 
surviving brother, Timothy, who settled near him, and became a 
merchant and magistrate, the father of a large family, and the grand- 
father of the subject of the present sketch. He, too, was a graduate 
of Yale. 



APPENDIX II. 529 



APPENDIX II. 

Prom the Remarks o/Hon. Thomas Allen, at the " Reminiscence Meeting'''' in 
the First Church, Sunday evening, August 31st. 

" If any one doubted whether Doctor Todd had a strong hold 
upon the affections of his people, I think his doubt should have been 
dissipated by the manifestations attending his funeral. It should be 
recorded that the entire body of the people, of all classes and de- 
nominations, suspended their usual labor, and came, either in per- 
son or by representative, to yield their last tribute of respect. The 
hearts of his people went down into the grave with his body. Noth- 
ing could be more touching and impressive than that burial. His 
grave was dug upon a natural mound, in the open field, fully ex- 
posed to the sunshine, in the highest part of Pittsfield's beautiful 
cemetery ; the tall green trees standing off, at respectful distance, as 
though they were silent sentinels, and the varied hills and high and 
solemn mountains around, near and afar, seeming to stand security 
for the promise of " everlasting love." In that August afternoon, 
the clouds interposed a veil to shield the mourners from the fierce 
rays of the sun, and all nature seemed hushed and still. The 
mourners and the people gathered around the circle — the ground 
was covered with evergreens and white flowers: there stood the 
white-haired and venerable Brinsmade at the head of the grave, im- 
pressing upon the living the lesson of the moment, and invoking 
the sanctifying influence of the Almighty; then the friends and 
relatives, old and young, dropped each a floral tribute upon the cof- 
fin ; tears flowed from eyes unused to them ; the only surviving son, 
with quivering lip, gave thanks to the people for their kindness, 
and the scene was over. If ever a man was buried in flowers and 
embalmed in affection, it was Doctor John Todd." 



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